


Well Placed Pressure

by TheOneKrafter



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Baking, Healing, Humor, Mage Rights or Mage Fights, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, More tags to be added, Self-Insert, Trans Male Character, baker - Freeform, multiple POVs, oc-insert, skyrim magic, uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25720723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneKrafter/pseuds/TheOneKrafter
Summary: So, you have those friends on the internet, right? The real close ones you always talk to about fandom?See, Lea and Max live on the opposite sides of the planet, and in different hemispheres.Now they’re in Thedas.(Two friends get plopped in Thedas, of course they do, make friends with the Herald, and are honestly trying their best. Oh, and they have fucking magic. Ugh.)
Relationships: Undecided
Comments: 55
Kudos: 219





	1. Achilles Come Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maximus_Prime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maximus_Prime/gifts).



> I have so many books. So many. Which is why you’re reading this anyways! I’ll learn how to focus some day. Also, this is all because my friend Maximus_Prime and I love our what ifs.

“Shit shit shit-“

“Apply pressure!”

“Very aware, Max!”

Demons. Something neither party had accounted for when they went to sleep in two very different timezones.

The girl has her hands pressed firmly against a wounded man, slashed by a terror demon. Her compatriot, a boy, is busy ripping bandages out of a shirt. 

“I need you to stay awake, and breathe slowly, because the faster you breathe, the more blood is gonna come out,” The girl says, green eyes on the man under her. 

Said man nods through his gritted teeth, trying to follow her directions. 

“You’re going to be fine, alright?” The girl reassures. “Just a flesh wound. No internal damage as far as I can tell.”

She’s talking out of her ass. Luckily enough, the man seems to believe her. 

The blood between her fingers is sticky and hot and smells like playground metal. It’s not about her, though. What matters is she keeps as much blood inside as possible. 

“Bandages,” The boy, Max, says, holding the ripped cloth at the ready. 

“Fuck, I’ve never wrapped bandages around a person before, but we’re all having some new experiences today aren’t we?” The girl says half hysterically, moving her hands and quickly going to start wrapping the makeshift bandages. 

“Please lift him up, Max,” The girl says quickly. 

People are shouting around them, stabbing and slashing at the demons falling from the sky. 

It’s a mess. This is a mess. 

Max, taller than the girl and with more muscle, does as she asks, pale and poker faced. 

“What’s your name?” The girl asks the man she’s wrapping bandages around, trying for a weak smile. 

“Samual,” The man hisses. “Samual from Denerim.”

“Good to meet you, Samual from Denerim. Shit weather today, huh?” The girl says, laughing weakly. “I’m Lea, this is my friend Max. I hear Denerim is nice this time of year.”

Lea’s still talking out of her ass. Not new, though. 

“Be careful about making it too tight,” Max says, though wary of making the already tense situation worse. 

“I’m trying, thank you for the reminder,” Lea says as nicely as she can because it is NOT Max’s fault they’re in a videogame world and a man is bleeding out in their arms. 

A wispy acidic energy smacks somewhere above their heads, and they all flinch, save Samual, who’s trying not to panic and die. 

“We need to move him somewhere safe,” Lea says, but no knowing where safe IS. 

Max clearly is having the same problem. 

Lea focuses on her task, rambling about snow and how light refracts off of it in hopes of distracting Samual who she hopes isn’t going into shock. 

What does shock even look like? She’s fucking seventeen. She doesn’t know. 

Max is trying to focus on the warmth of Samual in his arms instead of becoming quickly overwhelmed by his chaotic surroundings. His feet ache.

Lea runs out of bandage and looks around at the slowly dying out skirmish. The living are winning, apparently, so she has at least one thing to be glad for. 

She makes eye contact with Max, and they both seem to understand, on the same wavelength, that this is a “well, shit” moment if there ever was one.

Lea looks down again at the slow blooming crimson against what used to be a shirt and Max closes his eyes, too many sensations happening at once, too much noise. Too much and he can feel the anxious energy pooling uncomfortably under his skin. Itchy. 

Blood is drying against Lea’s too soft hands. It’s a terrible feeling. 

“All clear!” One of the Templars shouts. 

“We need to get him back to Haven,” Max mumbles, eyes still shut. 

“Agreed. Can anyone carry Samual here back to Haven?” Lea says, asserting herself quickly. 

The Templar who shouted all clear moves to the task, taking Samual from Max’s arms. 

“You two should come with us, you’ll get killed out here,” The Templar man says, demon gook on his armor and dark skin stark in comparison to all these Fereldens. 

“Gladly,” Lea says, looking over at Max for confirmation. 

Max nods, looking around and taking in the remnants of the fight, the footprints and muddy snow and blood on the ground. 

Lea walks close at Max’s side, pink lips pursed in a thin line, and fighting tears. 

“This is bad,” Lea whispers. 

Max nods, a bit shell shocked.

“You think we’ve got-“ Lea makes a wiggly motion with a her fingers, eyes on the Templar in front of her. 

“That would complicate things,” Max whispers back, face entirely too much like a stone statue to be healthy. 

Panic probably isn’t what they need right now. 

“This is a Solvellan shipper’s wet dream.” Lea’s scared. She’s really very scared. And through sheer force of will she’s not crying. 

Max manages a weak huff of laughter. 

“I remember at least one of those Khuzdul insults for him.”

This really really isn’t okay. 

—

Lea doesn’t really know shit about healing people, honestly, blood makes her nauseous, but the alternative is sitting on her ass and letting what few mages they have with healing skills kill themselves trying to help all of the wounded. 

So, she steps up. 

Max heads for the Tavern kitchen without a by your leave, knowing he literally went to school for cooking and baking and that’s where he’d be most useful. 

They don’t talk about how bad it is that they’re here. They don’t utter a word. 

They are not safe here. They are not built for this. But right now they need to integrate. 

No one looks twice at the Kitchen baker or one of the volunteers trying to keep the people coming in from the valley alive. 

That’s what they need right now. 

Especially considering the Herald has only just been found, and isn’t awake yet. 

Max and Lea are, above all, not stupid, even if they’re a seventeen year old and a nineteen year old respectively. 

Lea boils snow, pointedly not even trying magic in hopes that it wouldn’t work even if she tried, and cleans the tools and bandages and patients. Infection is not what they need right now, even if she’s squeamish and could barely handle washing dishes with food on them at home. 

She dry heaves a few times, but that’s her goddamn business. 

Max kneads bread and handles pot after pot of nug stew, quiet and focused on the familiar motions. The people fighting and not fighting all need food. He can do food. 

He’s stressed out of his fucking mind, though. Too many new smells, new/old surroundings, people in his space. The Kitchen, for all its smokey and small, is a haven, in Haven. 

He tells Lea the pun. She laughs so hard she cries. She hates puns, but she hates being around dying people more. 

Lea knows how to stitch people up, in theory. In practice she almost throws up and then promptly has to force herself to pretend the person under her is already dead so she can’t pretend she’s not hurting someone to fix them. 

She refuses to throw up, frankly. The entire experience would be undignified and she’s already undignified enough with her stupid quickly getting oily hair. 

Luckily enough, she’s fairly good at things when she’s determined enough. So the people she stitches heal up and do not get infections. 

Lea isn’t built for this. She decides as soon as the Breach is stabilized she’s never going near another healing tent. 

Max leaves the Kitchen solely to make sure Lea doesn’t forget meals, because that’s a thing she does, and to sleep. It sounds depressing, but he prefers it. Less time outside means less likely to get killed by demons. 

Lea eats her bread and stew, the both of them stepped away from the ever full, ever disheartening healing tents. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand how these people can tolerate not being clean,” Lea hisses quietly. “Which is probably classist of me, so I’ll shut up.”

Max shrugs, focused on a bird in a tree nearby. “It’s different from home, and gross by our standards. It makes sense.”

Lea grumbles. “I can and will start a hygienic revolution if I have to, it’s making preventing infections a pain in the ass.”

The bird, a hawk, Max thinks, ruffles its feathers. 

“I’m in support. Just wait till you know who handles the big green thing in the sky,” Max says quietly. 

“He’s an elf,” Lea murmurs. “So either he’s getting Solvellan hell or mercy.”

Max makes a face. 

“Egg.”

Lea huffs a laugh, before taking another bite of her stew. 

Max looks away from the Hawk and down at the new group of people returning from the Valley, and-

“Oh, egg,” Lea hisses, seeing him at the same time as Max, being escorted up to the Chantry. 

Beside him is Varric Tethras, chatting about something or other. 

“We’re fucked,” Lea says, voice filled with dread and her knee bouncing up and down. 

“The hole in the sky didn’t tell you that?” Max asks, ready for the sigh he gets in response. 

—

They don’t test the magic until the Seeker leaves for the Valley with the Herald, a lanky looking guy barely older than them, Dirthamen’s vallaslin on his tan cheeks. 

Lea cries, when fire bursts forth from her palm, because she’s always wanted this shit but it means she’ll never know peace in Thedas. 

Max takes a deep breath, and watches with wide eyes when sparks come from his fingertips. 

They make eye contact. 

“Well,” Lea starts, voice watery. 

“Shit,” They say together. 

“Does this confirm my, ‘If you’re from earth you get magic’, theory? Or do we need a larger sample size?” Lea asks, extinguishing the flame. 

“Probably need a larger sample size,” Max says, still looking at the sparks with furrowed eyebrows. “This makes us apostates.”

Lea groans. “Like the egg?”

Max nods solemnly. 

“We befriend the Herald, and avoid death by Templar,” Lea says gravely. 

Max nods again. “Probably isn’t hard, just have to call him by his name instead of the title.”

Lea supposed that was true enough. 

The little cabin they claimed, the one where the old alchemist lived, is quiet. 

“Wanna see what we can do?” Lea asks, looking down at her hands. 

Max grins for the first time in a week. 

“Sure.”

They don’t set the cabin on fire, but it’s definitely a close thing. 

—

Lea does warmups every morning. She’s never done that before, but with hazy memories of JROTC and the hazier of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu classes, she stretches and squats and attempts a push-up. 

She’s trying to create normalcy, she doesn’t pretend it’s anything else. 

Max joins in with quiet certainty. A bit annoyed at the morning for existing, but exercise won’t kill him. 

He can do a normal push-up. Lea is envious of this, since she has to do hers off the side of the dresser at an angle. 

“Stupid noodle arms,” Lea hisses, breathing deeply at ten push-ups. 

Max shrugs. “I make bread and mix things.”

“Yeah, I get that, it changes nothing,” Lea states, looking over at Max’s thicker arms with narrowed eyes, then at her small ones. 

Though, admittedly, it’s not taking much for her to get stronger than she was stuck in quarantine for five months, reading and playing video games. She gets sore as fuck, but it means she’s probably doing something right. 

She can even open lidded things on her own! Most of the time. 

Er. Sometimes. 

Max starts throwing on his jacket and wishes they had thermometers here, because as far as he can tell it’s just “Really Fucking Cold”.

Lea would argue that it feels like negative ten, in her weird Fahrenheit.

Max has no clue how America lasted as long as it did on their weird ass measurement systems. He stands by that, like a good Australian. 

“Do you think I can start working at the Tavern?” Lea hums, stretching her arms high above her head. 

Max shrugs. “If you want. Flissa won’t mind the help.”

Lea grins. “Well that’s good. I’m tired of sewing people up and resetting bones, it’s nerve wracking.”

And not in the good way. One mess up and someone could die. 

“You didn’t have to work in the healing tents,” Max points out simply. She didn’t, she could’ve walked into the Tavern kitchens with him and washed her hands of the healing shit. 

She wouldn’t have, though. Max knew when they were just tentative nerd friends on Instagram half a world away. Lea’s a bleeding heart, and being here isn’t good for making that affliction any better. 

“If you have the ability to help, you should. Even if it makes you want to throw up,” Lea says grimly. “Too much blood for a lifetime, my dude, too much.”

Lea pulls on her layers and they head out into the snow, the Breach stabilized but ever present above their heads. 

—

Max rules the kitchen somehow, even if he’s the least likely person to demand attention and authority. 

He just. Gets the job done, corrects the people doing it wrong, and suddenly Flissa is looking to him as the person in charge of the kitchen while she watches the servers. 

It’s weird. Max is here because he doesn’t like attention. 

Lea thinks it’s great, though. 

“Trust me, this is better than being out there with all the people,” She says, grabbing three bowls of stew to balance on a tray, along with utensils. 

Max nods, because it most certainly is. The dining area is loud. 

Max spots one of the girls a little younger than Lea not cutting carrots correctly, and quickly moves to keep her from cutting a finger off. 

Not in his kitchen, thank you. 

“With your fingers curled, like this,” Max says, carefully showing the girl the motion that will avoid getting blood all over the food. 

The girl nods, quickly, lips pursed as she watches what he does. 

“I’m sorry,” She says, eyes on the floor. 

Max shrugs. “You know how to do it now.”

Max moves back to where he’d been watching the stew, grumbling a curse when he sees they’re already running out of bread. 

There’s some loud shouting in the dining area, and Max glances out the door to makes sure no one is dying. 

There’s a bar fight. Lea is currently trying to hold one of them back and waving for one of the nearby soldiers to grab the other. 

Max moves quickly, grabbing the other taller man and holding him back. 

“Chill! Calm down, it ain’t that deep you guys,” Lea is saying over the chaos. “Let’s take a breather!”

Max is focused on holding his guy back from lunging at Lea’s, but he’s very aware that he already misses his Kitchen. 

“I’ll beat your ass!” Lea’s guy shout’s at Max’s. 

“No you will not be!” Lea interjects, panicked looking. “Someone bigger than me should really help right now!” 

One does, a tall soldier much bigger than Lea jumps in, tugging Lea’s guy to pin him against the wall before he can try anything else. 

Lea focuses on Max’s guy now. 

“Deep breaths!” Lea says, holding out her hands to the man. “Violence won’t solve anything, you just need to calm down.”

Max’s guy stops thrashing so much, trying to catch his breath. 

“He’s got a fuckin’ mouth on him,” Max’s guy hisses. 

“Well so do you,” Lea says, frowning at him. “Why are you trying to make a mess in Flissa’s bar, man? Take it to the training yard.”

The man in Max’s arms slumps, but is still glaring at the other man being talked down against the wall. 

“Fine,” He hisses. 

“Go sober up, and when you’re done, apologize to Flissa,” Lea says, shaking her head. 

Max let’s go of the man, rolling his shoulder, and the soldier stomps out. 

Lea lets out a breath, anxiety showing on her face. 

“I’m not built for this.”

Max nods, grimacing. 

—

“So, in conclusion, runes do, in fact, rely on intent,” Lea says, looking down at the softly glowing symbols they pushed mana into. 

Max pokes the symbol on the right, and blinks when it lights up, but does nothing else. 

Lea mumbles something, and writes in her notes, pencil graphite on her hand. 

“So, explosions?” Max asks innocently, poking the one that’s supposed to work like a heater and is happy to note it doesn’t burn. 

Lea makes a face that says a firm  _ no _ to explosions. 

“Do  _ not _ . We can’t even test how big the could get in this environment.”

Max shrugs. “Just a suggestion.”

He’s not an arsonist, but everyone has a little arsonist in them waiting to be released. 

Now, at least, they have a way to make their clothes warmer, assuming a heating rune won’t set fabric on fire. 

Max blinks, and grabs their cleaning rag. 

He focuses on not setting it on fire, but making things warmer, while he lays down the rune symbol. 

It glows softly, warmth emanating from it. 

Max unceremoniously presses the rag to his bare arm, making Lea make an anxious sound in her throat, and is happy to note it doesn’t burn. Just warm. 

“Max, that’s how people get set on fire,” Lea hisses. 

“You would’ve poked it anyways,” Max says, smiling. 

Lea neither confirms nor denies this, before stilling. 

“What?” Max asks. 

Lea swipes a hand, and the runes they’d made disappear, her journal shoved into the waistband of her pants and covered by her shirt. 

“Templar,” She says, and Max focuses on the area around them, before blinking when he smells the faint menthol of lyrium singing outside the cabin. 

It’d been weird, but once seeing the only ones to smell like it wore templar armor Lea and Max knew what it was. 

Someone knocks on the door, and with a tap the warming rune Max made is gone. 

Max fiddles with his hands while Lea moves to the door, watches her settle into a casual stance with lax features. 

He doesn’t know how she does that, but then again, he’s on the spectrum. Playing into social norms is probably easier for her. 

Lea opens the door, head tilted. 

“It’s way too late for strange men to be at my door,” Lea says, arms crossed. 

Max idly wonders how quickly they could escape Haven if pressed, unaware that Lea is thinking through the same plans at the moment. 

“Sorry to bother you,” A masculine voice says. “We were sensing magic.”

Lea makes a face that speaks very clearly on her opinion of him and probably more Templars investigating this. 

“Ah, that’d be the blood magic,” Lea says blandly. “I’m the most nefarious seventeen year old barmaid you’ve met. I was planning on overthrowing the town with nugs.”

Someone snorts beyond the door, before covering it up with a cough. 

“As far as I’m concerned, any magic you may or may not have felt is not your business. There’s no circles, and I’m not Andrastian,” Lea continues, and Max can see her hands are paler than usual, tight on her arms. “Kindly fuck off.”

Max walks up behind her, frowning deeply and hoping his presence might comfort her, or something. 

Two of the Templars in front of them look visibly drunk, two others look barely sober. 

The leader, tall and broad, scoffs. 

“Apostate?” He says. 

“Again, whether I am or not is none of your fucking business. Don’t make me get Ser Lisette,” Lea says, already small eyes narrowed to slits. 

She then, shuts the door in their faces. 

Lea is not having a good time. She doesn’t do confrontation, even against stupid Templars who she feels bad for because Templars and Mages were both victims of the Chantry-

There’s some annoyed sounds beyond the door, but the smell of lyrium eventually goes away, and Max tentatively lays a hand on Lea’s shaking shoulder. 

“Can I have a hug?” Lea asks, weakly. 

Max hums a yes and then they’re hugging on the floor and Lea is crying and Max feels bad because he’s older and that should mean he should be taking charge here but-

Neither of them know what they’re doing. Neither of them. 

Max sniffles, and even if his shirt is getting wet he doesn’t move. He doesn’t really know how comforting other people is supposed to work, but Lea doesn’t seem to care as long as he rubs her back. 

“I miss Florida,” Lea says, voice shaking. 

Lea also realizes that’s probably stupid, considering they were in the middle of a global pandemic and Florida wasn’t doing so hot, but she still misses it. 

“I miss Tasmania,” Max says, because he does. He misses his cat and his goats and his parents and even his siblings. 

“This sucks,” Lea says vehemently. “I want to go home. I hate snow and I hate magic and I hate fucking Dragon Age.” 

Max nods. “Agreed,” He declares gruffly. He probably would’ve preferred Middle Earth, even if they probably wouldn’t have been able to speak the language. 

“Do you think we should leave?” Max asks. 

Lea shakes her head quickly. 

“No. We’re probably here for a reason, shit like this doesn’t just fucking happen,” Lea says bitterly. “And running won’t change the fact that Egg is still skulking about.”

They need a better code name for the ancient elvhen racist, but it just fits. Makes light of the dramatic situation. 

“Fate could’ve waited until Dragon Age four came out,” Max grumbles. 

Lea scoffs. “Since when has it ever been easy for self-inserts?” Lea says, before visibly paling. 

“Oh god. We’re fucking SI. We’re gonna go through trauma and  _ die _ or some shit,” Lea hisses, voice high and panicked. 

Max blanches at said revelation. 

“Yikes,” Max declares, intelligently. 

Lea does something that’s between a whine and a sob and Max pats her back some more. 

—

The Herald is a pretty man, Lea can appreciate that at least. 

Well, man might be a little too far. He looks barely older than Max, though it might just be good genes. 

“So, should I be calling you Lavellan or Herald?” Lea asks, covering her nerves with a smile. 

Lavellan makes a face that clearly states his opinion on more people calling him Herald. 

“Lavellan, please,” He says, a british- er, Ferelden, accent curling around his words. 

“Name’s Lea, Lavellan. What would you like to eat, and/or drink?” Lea says, giving him what she hopes is a comforting grin. 

He’s not one of Max’s or Lea’s Inquisitors. That does not bode well. 

At least he doesn’t seem like a dick, from what Lea can tell, but she’s been wrong before. 

“I hear your stew is good?” Lavellan asks, rather than tells. 

“Oh, the best, considering the few spices we have access to on this mountain. Would you like something alcoholic or nonalcoholic?” Lea asks. 

The tavern is filled with soldiers and civilians and quite a few are looking at their Herald. 

Lea pointedly does not look at the Herald with weird religious fanaticism or hero worship. Really, it’s not that hard to treat a dude like he’s a normal person. 

Which he is, besides the angry green thing on his hand. 

“Alcoholic,” Lavellan states, face grave enough to imply he’s not blind and can see the looks everyone is giving him. 

Yikes. Poor dear. 

Lea nods solemnly, and heads off to grab the strongest shit they have for the poor dude. 

—

“Is it bad to want to get close to him solely to study the mark?” Lea murmurs when she and Max alone in their cabin. 

Max thinks for a moment. 

“Probably? Ancient egg magic is pretty bad.”

Lea sighs deeply. 

“I’m not a scientist, alright, but I was not prepared for how quickly I’d devolve to wanting to take things apart to see how they work,” She murmurs. “I was not like this before Thedas.”

Max shrugs. “Magic is fascinating? You probably just didn’t have a subject to interest you, we already would get into theories before we were here.”

Lea nods, before looking over at Max with a frown. 

“How bad for you think your first period will be?” She asks, quieter and mournfully. 

No access to testosterone in medieval hell means having to figure something else out. Max is glad he had top surgery before this mess. 

“Bad,” Max says gravely, wincing at the thought of it. 

Lea shakes her head, firmly. “I’ll try and find a spell to stop periods, but we aren’t exactly in the best spot for that,” She says, pacing. “I’ll need the Herald to pick the Mages, probably. Or to try and look through the fade.”

They’re dreamers. That revelation had been a pain in the fucking ass. For now they’ve been keeping to their own little bits of the fade, sometimes tentatively walking to the each other’s dreams, but never leaving to seek out knowledge. 

“It’s fine,” Max says. “I’ll live, I’d prefer you don’t get possessed.”

Lea scoffs.

“As if a demon could get their hands on this body,” She says, baring her teeth at the thought of it. “What are they gonna do? Offer me riches? Sex? Bold of them to assume I want either.”

Max rolls his eyes. 

“We don’t know how they work yet, Lea. Might not be like how we theorized,” Max says. 

“The worst case scenario is catching egg’s eyes, not possession. Possession I can handle,” Lea says, though her grimace implies both situations are no good. 

Max agrees, even if he’s wary of spirits and demons getting their hands on his body. 

As long as they stay away from Solas and the Spymaster, they’ll be fine. 

Hopefully. 

—

Varric Tethras notes her lack of callus first, then the lack of blemishes, then the babyfat on her cheeks and way too healthy hair.

Now why, exactly, is a noble serving him ale?

Oh. This is a story. 

“Anything else?” The serving girl asks, twisting her pretty pink lips up into a grin that shows she’s got all her teeth. That is not a Ferelden accent. 

Oh there’s definitely a story here. 

“Conversation, if you’re willing,” Varric says playfully. 

The girl looks around the room, keen green eyes checking for anyone else who might need help first. 

She looks back, head tilting a little to the side. 

“What sort of conversation, Mr. Tethras?” She asks. 

So she’s either read a book or has heard about him. Hm. 

“So you know my name?” Varric asks with a grin. “Ah, I feel bad, I don’t have yours.”

There’s a momentary hesitation there, just long enough for him to notice. 

“Lea,” The girl says, and that gives him absolutely nothing. “Nice to meet you, thanks for helping us not get eaten by the hole in the sky.”

Right. That. 

“Ah, that? Nothing really. The Herald did all the heavy lifting,” Varric says with a wave of his hand. The girl’s clothes look second hand, but not as if they aren’t well taken care up. Definitely more layers than the natives are in. 

The girl, Lea, doesn’t look like she believes him. 

“You went through the Death Valley and then up to the ruins of that temple,” Lea says, slowly, as if he’s an idiot. “And then fought and killed a Pride demon. Any of that warrants praise even if you don’t have a death mark on your palm.”

Well, fair enough. So much for modesty. 

Honestly, this is kind of on par with the shit he got up to with the Hawkes, though, so. 

“Come on, now, can’t a guy be modest?” Varric says.

“I mean, if that’s what you’d like.” Lea shrugs. “Call me over if you need something.”

And with a small wave, she’s headed back to the kitchen, stepping around chairs and people with ease. 

Huh. 

Varric shrugs, and settles on keeping an eye out for that one. This Inquisition seems to attract all types of interesting, and weird. Definitely weird. 

Varric downs some of his ale, and focuses on people watching the tavern. More entertainment will come eventually.


	2. Just, agh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in five minutes because I already have this one done. Whoop.

Existence is obnoxious. 

Lea does jumping jacks, very very annoyed that her ADD chose now to rear its ugly head. 

Max watches on passively, feeling the opposite. Calmer than calm. 

Lea takes a seat once she’s panting and her muscles burn with exertion, still just as annoyed even if the gross jittery energy hasn’t left yet. 

She needs to move and everything is boring. 

Which, a terrible way to think about being stuck in a magic world with magic world racism and, well, magic. 

She needs her fucking phone. She’s going to combust. 

Max, as of current, is thinking about dragons. It’s a much simpler train of thought, though now he’s thinking about weak points in their scales and where those would probably be. Maybe the inner leg, like the armpit?

Hm. 

Lea rolls to her feet and starts going through the drawers of their desk and starts collecting a pile of paper. Writing. Writing she can do, right? That’s entertaining?

Aw, she can’t write Dragon Age fanfiction anymore, they’re real people. God fucking damnit. 

She fumbles around for a pencil. 

Well. Naruto fanfiction it is. Oh! Or Game of Thrones. That’s not incriminating. 

Max is staring into space, humming. David Bowie, he thinks. One of the songs from the labyrinth. Could he tame a dragon to ride it?

Probably not. Too big, probably would eat him. 

“Can we tame dragons?” Max choses to ask aloud. 

Lea hums. “Probably not. Well, not without a flame proof place and a lot of commitment. And even then it’d probably try and eat us,” Lea says, already scribbling words down onto the paper. 

Plot details for Game of Thrones that she can remember, since she doesn’t exactly have access to a wiki anymore and the knowledge is relatively fresh. 

“Skyhold?” Max asks, head tilting. “Big and not flammable.”

“I think I read a fic about that once. Lady goes and accidentally tames a dragonling, can’t remember the name for the life of me,” Lea says, trying to get down as many characters as she can along with who they are and why they were important. 

If only she knew important shit, like how to make a reliable plumbing system. Or fencing. 

At least she doesn’t need to write down plot details for Dragon Age, she’s got those memorized. 

Max nods. “I think I read it too. She gets with Curly?” 

Lea nods. “Mhm. I think Dalish dies in it though, it was very sad.”

Lea then pauses her scribbling about Jon Snow, suddenly realizing this isn’t home, this isn’t just fandom talk time, this is real life. 

Shit. 

Max is having no such issue, already thinking about dragon saddles and what you’d need to make them out of. 

Lea shakes her head. No point in worrying about that shit. She resumes writing. 

“You think it’s ethical to write books from home here?” Lea asks. 

Max shrugs. “It’s not like anyone else will.”

Lea grimaces. She could probably get away with Game of Thrones, not Harry Potter, though. Mage Templar war and shit. 

Plus modern context. Too much modern context in Harry Potter. 

God. Could her version of Game of Thrones really compare to the original?

The fireplace crackles. 

Honestly? Probably. And she’d put in less nudity. 

—

Lea steps into the kitchen and leans her head against the wall farthest from getting in anyone’s way. 

People. Lea fucking hates people. So much. 

She also hates alcohol. But how many other places in Haven can she get a non-combatant job, outside of cleaning up after people?

She takes deep, grounding breaths. In. Out. Tries to still the fast churning of her brain. 

“You okay?” Max murmurs, a hand laid on her shoulder. 

See, Max has the right idea. Hiding in the kitchen and avoiding stupid outside stimulus. 

“Running out of social juice,” Lea grumbles. She wants to go back to the cabin and hide somewhere for a while with her papers.

Max hums in understanding. He would understand best, what with having autism. Not that she’s trying to compare his stuff to her stuff!

Ugh. 

“Anything I can do?” Max asks, quiet. 

“I just need a little bit,” Lea says. “Thanks, Max.”

Max gently pats her shoulder, concerned and knowing in equal measure. It’s a miracle the both of them are holding up this well in the first place. 

Max turns and leaves her be, already focusing on stew and using yesterday’s leftover bread and checking over his shoulder to make sure Janine isn’t fumbling with her knife again. 

He’s still worried. He’ll pretend he’s not, but he already wants to start feeding her cake or something until she’s alright. 

Lea breathes, strengthens her resolve. It sucks. This sucks. She will not break over having to deal with stupid drunk people though. Not now. Especially not now. 

She pushes off the wall and heads back into the fray of the tavern, back straight and a placid smile on her face. 

Stupid hormones. Stupid drunk people. 

—

Dreaming is weird, with magic. With control over the fade. 

They theorized it was because they weren’t from here that it all came easier, no real previous expectations, no laws set in stone. The fade would do what you wished if asked politely enough. 

That doesn’t mean they don’t still dream, though. And both Max and Lea were prone to weird dreams, even before coming here. 

Dramatic dreams. 

Lea sprints through the woods that used to be around her house, and it’s almost dark and she remembers cutting through them once to get from a neighbor’s house to her own. The grey evening light that makes everything look more ominous. 

Lea was raised on tarot cards and stories about family curses. She knows there’s things in the forest, that unsettled sense of knowing. Anyone from rural areas knows not to look out the window at night into the pitch black dark. 

But this isn’t a bad dream, at least, probably not. Then again, her dreams that take place at that little avenue between night and day, the twilight in the morning and the dusk in the evening, have always ended up weirdly ominous. 

A hazy grey filter covers the oak and pine trees. Air comes in her lungs and out. Fallen leaves crunch underfoot- is she wearing her running shoes? God she misses her orthopedic running shoes, her damn feet ache in Thedas. 

Wait. Running. Sprinting, really. The air is cool and humid. 

Lea comes to a stop, looking around. 

A field is in the distance, probably pulled from memories of her childhood home. 

Well. Might as well check it out. A field is safer than the forest at night. 

She can’t shake that itching feeling of being watched. 

She knows this is a dream, vaguely, and if she wanted to wake she’d do it, but. 

Curiosity killed the cat. 

Satisfaction brought it back. 

Lea runs again, headed for the field and wondering what weird shit her brain will reveal this time. She still remembers the one time she dreamt about Jesus on the cross in her garden, she really hopes this isn’t one of those dreams. 

Lea stops at the edge of forest and field, eyes on the rolled up hay bales. 

“Leonora.”

Shit. 

Lea turns her head, spotting-

Spirit- no, looks like Hircine from Skyrim, the glowing white buck. 

What the actual fuck?

“Well met, Hunter,” Lea says, eyes narrowed. Few people use her full name, save her mother and some teachers at school. 

The buck cocks it’s head. 

“Ah. That is a fitting form,” The voice has changed to Hircine’s. That’s. Disconcerting. 

“What are you here for?” Lea asks. She’s aware possession probably isn’t it, and she’s worried that a spirit even came this close to the Breach. 

“Those of the fade are drawn to the call of two newly awakened sominari,” Not Hircine says, head raising proudly. Lea pointedly doesn’t curse. “I am the first, it seems.”

Now what sort of spirit is this?

“Pride,” The spirit says. “You are full of it, though not so much as the older one who roams your hunting grounds.”

Hm. 

“Kah Grohiik does seem to be teeming with it,” Lea murmurs. Pride Wolf in Dovahzuul seems fitting for Solas. “Though I doubt I can compare.”

Pride chuffs. Can deer chuff?

“Modesty,” He says with disgust. “Though, there is good in quiet pride.”

This ranks second in her weird dream list. After the Jesus incident and before the werewolf situation. 

“Have I satisfied your curiosity, Pride?” Lea asks, digging her shoes deep into the earth. “Or rather given you the satisfaction of being first, I suppose.”

She doesn’t ask if Solas knows she and Max are dreamers. It’s a pointless question. 

Some of the grey haze lifts at her awareness, as happens with all lucid dreams, but not enough. 

Pride nods, smug feeling. “You understand, it is so hard to find mortals who do.”

Lea shrugs. 

“It is your essence to be prideful, and this would be a good boast. How much of Hircine have you pulled from my mind?”

It’s an important question. She wants to know how wary she should be of spirits besides Cole. 

She doesn’t worry that they would do something, but Solas asking one would be a pain. 

“Enough. There is pride in a good hunt,” Pride says, and she has the impression he would be grinning if he weren’t a buck right now. “I think I will keep this form for a while. Will you hunt with me?”

Lea hasn’t touched a bow in a while. 

“Sure, just no werewolves,” Lea says with a shrug, feeling the cold metal of her old compound bow form in her hand, and a quiver of arrows over her shoulder. 

“Catch me if you can,  _ Leonora _ ,” Pride says, before taking off in a sprint. 

Lea hisses a Elvhen curse and takes off after the spirit, attempting to nock her bow on the fly. 

“I’ve never hunted before!” Lea calls out annoyed. 

“Then you shall learn! Feed me your pride!” Pride says, and Lea decides spirits are just as annoying as living people. 

—

Max frantically tugs the redhead protagonist of his stupid dream away from the damn vampires chasing them. 

Not the sparkly kind, a unholy mix between zombies and vampires. 

“Oi!” The woman crows, and Max resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

New world, same shit in his dreams. 

“We need to blow this place up,” Max decides. 

This place being a weird factory his brain has conjured up. Cracked concrete foundations. Bloodstained floors. Twisting labyrinth. 

He hears tell tale hissing of a dream vampire coming up on their tail. 

Yep. Definitely need to set this place on fire. 

Wait. 

Mage. He’s a mage now, isn’t he?

With a wave of his hand, fire bursts forth behind him, and he hears the vamp scream as it burns. 

Okay. So fire works on the vampires. 

He turns to the stereotypical young adult novel protagonist beside him, edgy leather jacket, glowing blue eyes, too well put together looking to be a genuine fighter. 

She has a set of daggers in her hands, glowing?

Why do his dreams always have to be big dramatic shits with plot?

“We have to take out this hive, for the safety of the city,” the woman who’s really a girl says, jutting our her chin. 

Max doesn’t ask what city. Man, he already lives in a videogame with magic and elves and weird little nug hands, why can’t his head screw on straight and give him dreams about walking into his school without pants?

“Right, whatever, lady, right after we get out of here,” Max snarks, hearing more hissing and starting to drag her again. 

At least dreams feel more real in the fade. Less... foggy. 

Wait. 

He narrows his eyes on the woman. 

Spirit or mental construct?

She snaps her eyes to Max, and then sighs. 

“You have ruined the fun, boy,” She grumbles with too pretty black painted lips. 

“What are you?” Max asks. He means to ask what type of spirit, he hopes it gets across in his wording. 

She puffs up, grinning. 

“I am valor!” She declares. “And your mind is a wealth for scenarios of valor. Let us not end the game yet, hm?”

Max stares at her for another long moment, before a vamp jumps out at him and Valor slices it’s head off. 

Well. Suppose it can’t hurt. 

“Fine. But you quit acting so stubborn, you know what my plan is,” Max says, waving her on. Let’s see where this dream takes him. 

At least it isn’t w-ndigo. He hated that dream. 

—

The roommates peer over at each other blearily when they wake up. 

“Don’t go hunting with Pride spirits,” Lea states, gravely, feeling phantom aches from all that running and jumping. 

“Valor spirits are stubborn asses,” Max says in a similar tone, ears half ringing from the explosions. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, before breaking into grins. 

“I see why the Egg hates tea,” Lea hums. 

Max rolls his eyes. 

“He probably doesn’t have half as much fun as we do.”

Across the village, a bald headed elf, who just awoke from his own dreams, sneezes. 

—

Lahlas Lavellan,  _ yes he knew it was funny _ , isn’t doing so well. 

He’s-

He wants to go home. 

With a shuddering breath, Lahlas slowly rebuilds himself, pulling his pieces back together to feel some semblance of whole and look fine. 

He has to at least look fine. Maybe if he pretends long enough he’ll be whatever these Shems see in him. 

Mythal have mercy. 

Lahlas starts walking back to the village again, keeping his back casually slumped, a small smile on his face. Fine. He is fine. 

He runs into someone. 

“Ow,” The someone grumbles, and he looks down to see-

Oh. The barmaid from the other day. What was her name? Lea?

“ _ Abelas _ ,” Lahlas says before he can stop himself, grimacing because this is a shem and they don’t like the language of the people usually. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Lea says, stepping back a little to give them space. “Just wasn’t expecting you,  _ ma’halla _ . The ow was on reflex.”

Wait-

Lahlas looks over at her ears before he can stop himself, confused when he sees no point. Maybe she’s half?

“Good, I should’ve been paying attention,” Lahlas says, grinning a little. “Especially to such a pretty girl.”

Her eyebrows raise, but no blush. Damn. 

Well, he does do these things for reactions anyways. The look the Commander gave him when he flirted yesterday was too entertaining to pass up on. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Lavellan,” Lea says dryly. “Are you alright, though?”

Lahlas doesn’t wince or change his calm expression. Pretend.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Save the world eating hole in the sky,” Lahlas jokes. 

“You’ve been made into a figurehead of a religion you don’t follow,” Lea states. “I’d be a bit torn up if I were you.”

Lahlas doesn’t break character, but his shoulders do slump, just enough for the keen eyed girl in front of him to notice. 

“Hey, come with me. It’s my day off, and I’m sure I can hide you away from responsibilities for a little while,” Lea says, quieter, more soothing. 

Lahlas thinks hard about it, because he does want to hide. He wants to be normal Lahlas, sneakiest elf in the clan and one of their youngest to take his vallaslin. The Lahlas who doesn’t have Shems whispering reverently when he walks past. 

He must take too long, though, because Lea is quick to reassure him. 

“ _ Hey _ , no pressure. It’s all up to you. I know you barely know me, but I figure us young people gotta stick together against all these adults,” Lea jokes, gently patting his shoulder. 

“I have my vallaslin,” Lahlas says indignatly. 

“You’re also barely older than me. What, nineteen?” Lea says dryly. “Let’s fight the system together. Teenage rebellion and all that.”

Lahlas decides, very quickly, that he likes this girl, and will happily hide from responsibilities with her. 

Lahlas grins. “Fine then,  _ da’len _ . Let’s go hide.”

Lea gives him a very distinctive unimpressed look. He has a feeling he’ll memorize it by the end of this. 

He’s dragged to a small cabin on the outskirts of Haven, smoke coming out of the chimney real slow like and a few sets of footprints in the snow going in and out of the door. 

Lea opens the door. 

“You decent?” She asks, not moving inside yet. 

“Not naked,” Another voice responds. Ferelden, but with an odd twist to the words. 

“Cool, because I have Lavellan with me,” Lea says, waving for Lahlas to come in while she knocks snow off of her boots. 

Lahlas does so, welcoming the warm atmosphere of the cabin to the damned southern cold outside. 

Sitting by the fire is a man Lahlas thinks he might’ve seen around. Well, boy really, from the rounding of his cheeks. 

Blue eyed, pale, dark hair cut short and the beginnings of a beard. 

“He’s lankier up close,” The boy says contemplatively, looking at Lahlas but clearly talking to Lea, who’s finally shut the door and heading for the fire, rubbing her hands together. 

“Fucking cold- yeah. Might wanna put some more food in him, I don’t trust that ‘elves should be skinnier’ bullshit,” Lea grumbles, before looking at a sort of lost feeling Lahlas. “Come up to the fire if you’re cold, ma’halla. This is Maxwell, my brother. Max, Lavellan-“

She cuts herself off, eyes narrowing. 

“Wait, what’s your first name? I haven’t heard it yet?”

“Lahlas Lavellan,” Lahlas says with a small grin. 

Max laughs like a witches cackle, he learns. “Oh your parents did you bad, huh?”

“Double alliteration,” Lea says with a snicker. “If it makes you feel better, Leonora Lin Brooks is what I got stuck with.”

There’s a twinge of accent there that Lahlas can’t really place when she says her name. 

Secrets! Lahlas likes those. Only a person who likes them gets Dirthamen’s marks. 

“Maxwell and Leonora seem ostentatious. Your parents must have had high hopes,” Lahlas says, coming up to the fire with them and feeling himself relax with the heat. 

“I chose mine for myself, no need for parents,” Maxwell says with a snort. 

Lahlas lifts his eyebrows at that. Chose his name?

“I’m a disappointment,” Lea says dryly. “Set the expectations low, then you get praise for getting out of bed at a reasonable time.”

Lahlas is enjoying himself already. 

“How did picking a new name go over with them?” Lahlas choses to acknowledge first, interest piqued. 

“It helped that the old one didn’t fit anymore,” Maxwell says frankly. 

Lea huffs a laugh, and Lahlas assumes it’s an inside joke. 

He peers closer at the siblings, and notes though they both have dark hair, neither look all that alike. 

Max is more southern looking, pale and blue eyed and thin lipped. Different ears, too. 

Lea is northern, even if she’s got the southern coloration. Full lips, round nose, narrower eyes. And her skin is more, yellow(?), than Max’s pink. 

So. Adoptive siblings?

There’s a reason he’s the sneakiest elf in his clan. 

“Anyways, wanna complain about the adults in town?” Lea asks. “Because I think if I see Chancellor Roderick talk about blasphemy one more time I’ll explode.”

Lahlas grimaces. “Seeker Cassandra keeps looking at me with some sort of... faith, look. I don’t know what it means.”

_ This _ , Lahlas decides, is fine. Maybe he won’t have to sew himself back together so often. 

—

The Herald leaves for the hinterlands. 

If Max and Lea were more combat inclined, they would reveal themselves and join him. 

As is?

They aren’t. They’re fresh baby mages, they don’t know what they’re doing, and to interfere would be to eventually reveal their cards. 

And so, Max stays in his kitchen. 

He’s sneakily put modified warming runes on the stoves and ovens, happy to have a more precise way of cooking than firewood burning. He’s thinking of making a fridge when they eventually reveal their skills, but for right now all he can do is hope the food doesn’t go bad. 

Which, it probably won’t. They cook everything they get. 

A runner comes through the back entrance of the kitchen, looking for someone. 

“What do you need?” Janine asks the boy.

“Whoever runs the kitchen,” The kid, who couldn’t be older than fourteen, says. 

“That’d be Maxwell,” Janine says, pointing at Max. Max, who has paused from where he’d just finished cutting some potatoes. 

The kid, light haired, dark eyed, comes over, holding out a slip of paper to him. 

Max takes it, staring at the words. 

It takes him a moment, thanks to the dyslexia, but he nods. 

The Lady Ambassador wants to make sure he’s being paid enough as head cook, even if there aren’t many people cooking and less funds to go around. 

Max has no clue how to go about this. Luckily she wrote down the wage increase she was offering. 

Max tried to remember how much a thing of bread usually costs to conceptualize the weird money here. 

Ten bronze for a loaf of bread. A silver is a hundred of those. So, a silver is ten loafs of bread. 

So. Yeah, he’s definitely alright with ten sliver a week. That’s a hundred loafs of bread. 

“Tell the Lady that I’m happy with what she’s offering,” Max tells the runner still shuffling his feet in front of him. 

The runner nods, and hurries back out. 

Well. He can buy a fluffy blanket from Seggrit with that much, at least. Even at his shitty prices. 

He trusts Lea to get the price down, though. She’s got a knack for making people want to help her, and isn’t afraid to use it on merchants if pressed. 

—

Mother Gisselle shows up, so they assume everything is going fine?

Well. Until the Herald comes back in the middle of the night with his party, and instead of going to his own cabin, he picks the lock for theirs and waltzes in like he owns the place. 

Max is already sleeping, surprising since he and Lea are chronic night owls, so Lea stares dully at him from where she’s writing Game of Thrones (the improved version). 

“You look like shit,” She declares quietly, eyes on his dirty form and strained smile. Not even mentioning the constant light of the mark, flickering with the firelight. 

Lahlas drops the smile. 

“I-“ He starts, but stops. 

Lea sets down her pencil and looks at him intently. 

“My cabin is lonely,” Lahlas says, quietly, losing that charm he pulls over himself when he plays Herald. 

“Your clan probably slept real close around each other, right?” Lea asks, leg bouncing. “You can sleep in here, but first you’re bathing the road off of you.” 

She stands, stretching her arms high above her head and hearing her joints crack satisfyingly. 

“I can pull the tub out in that walled off bit, but you’re not allowed to ask where the water came from,” Lea hums. 

She’s alright with doing a little magic in front of the Herald. He’s Dalish, for fucks sake, it’s not like he’s a Travelyan Noble. He won’t freak out. 

She has no clue why he came here, though. A few meetings before he went to the Hinterlands does not a friendship make. 

“I couldn’t-“ Lahlas starts, but Lea’s already waving him off. It’s another opportunity to do magic, after all, and she wouldn’t pass that up. 

“It’s not a problem. You’re gonna have to go get some of your own blankets and pillows though, Max and I don’t share.”

They’re dragons about keeping their pillows and blankets safe, honestly. It was a pain to get some that weren’t terrible for their modern sensibilities. 

She assumes Lahlas nods or something, but she’s already conjuring ice into the metal tub they have and melting it. 

It feels nice, like stretching a muscle out. 

Lahlas makes a noise behind her, and Lea sighs. 

“Apostate, then?” Lahlas murmurs. “That’s why you’re outside the walls.”

“Everyone is an apostate since the rebellion,” Lea hums. She hopes Max won’t mind her revealing this bombshell. “You gonna tattle?”

He better not. 

Lahlas snorts, honest to god snorts. 

“What, do I look like a tattletale?” Lahlas says. 

“Well, you have Dirthamen’s marks, so I’d assume not,” Lea says dryly. “Go grab your shit now before you’re clean. The cold won’t be nice then.”

“Will do,  _ Leonora _ ,” Lahlas hums, teasing tone back.

She hears the door open and shut. 

Lea puts a finger in the water, making sure it’s just warm, not going to make a Herald Stew, and walks back to where Max is sleeping soundly. 

She can feel his...  _ aura _ (?) pulsing. Chilled out. 

She pokes him a few times, until he grumbles something too Australian for her to understand. 

“The Herald is staying in here tonight, he knows I’m magic. He’s also not snitching,” Lea says, feeling a little bad for waking Max up. 

“Use protection,” Max grumbles, half awake. 

Lea huffs a laugh. 

“He’s homesick, not looking for a lay,” Lea snickers, reaching over to tuck in her friend with a grin. 

Max grumbles some more, all too Australian for her weak American ears, and Lea leaves him be. 

Lahlas comes back with his arms full of blankets and pillows. 

“I think one of Leliana’s was on my back on the way here, sorry,” Lahlas hums, plopping the blankets and pillows and what she assumes is his bedroll down in between Lea and Max’s beds. 

Though, bed is generous. They’re sturdy cots with a mattress. 

“You making a nest?” Max mumbles, looking over at him blearily. 

“Of course, it’s an old Dalish thing, you wouldn’t get it,” Lahlas teases quietly. 

“ _ Fenhedis’lasa _ ,” Max says, and Lea guffaws. 

Lahlas looks impressed with that retort, much less offended about being called a wolf dick sucker than he should be.

“The bath over there should stay warm thanks to the runes I put on it,” Lea explains. “We’ve got some soaps over next to the tub too. Now go stop stinking up the cabin.”

“That’s rude,” Lahlas says. “I just closed at least six rifts in the past week and a half. I can’t help the smell.”

Lea points at the tub expectantly, and Lahlas sighs, walking over to the divided area murmuring about how rude shems are and how he should’ve stayed in the Free Marches. 

“Sass from the man who’s going to start rumors about threesomes,” Max says, reaching under his head and covering his face with his pillow. 

“Huh,” Lea says. “It’d be more juicy if the Seeker was here too, or something. Though, a foursome starts to look more like a secret meeting when you add lawful goods.”

Max sighs, deeply. 

“I was dreaming, Valor was in the middle of fighting a dragon, she is going to pester me,” Max says, muffled by his pillow. 

“I think if we added Solas, then it’d be juicy,” Lahlas adds from behind the divider. “Wait, never mind. I’m not sure if I want to see him naked in the nicest way possible.”

Lea grumbles about Kah Grohiiks and eggs. She wouldn’t mind the imagery if he were less racist and had hair, but such is life. 

Now she’s imagining the concept art hair. On an ancient elvhen god. 

Ugh. 

Hormones. 

They all end up asleep, eventually, and they all wake up knowing there’s most certainly gonna be some sort of gossip once this is through. 

—

“Herald, you cannot simply run away in the night into strange cabins,” Seeker Pentaghast scolds. 

Lahlas grins roguishly, his pieces all pulled together just right. 

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, Seeker. Were you  _ worried _ for me?” Lahlas teases. 

“What if there had been assassins?” Cassandra says instead of acknowledging the question, arms crossed and severe looking. 

“The Herald was perfectly safe, Cassandra,” Leliana interrupts, smiling just a little. “My scouts knew where he was.”

“If you intend on having,” Cassandra makes a face, “ _ sleepovers _ , at least tell someone as much. Especially should they be outside the walls.”

Lahlas sighs, deeply. “Where’s the fun in that, Seeker? Besides, I am perfectly capable of handling a few assassins. I close tears in reality.”

Lahlas owes Max and Lea a silver each for predicting the Seeker’s reaction. He shouldn’t have taken such a stupid bet. 

“Anyways, back to business,” Cullen cuts in, looking uncomfortable with the subject matter. “Val Royeaux?”

Right. That. 

Lahlas holds himself together. Pretend until it’s not pretending. 

—

“It shouldn’t be this easy,” Lea says simply, because she’s always the one to point out the flaws and worries and odd shit. 

Magic sings in them, uninhibited. They’re not Evenuris, they should be as limited as any mage of this day. 

Or maybe this is how it usually feels for them? But why? How? 

Max has tried as many runes as he can think of, to varying success. Some required more specifics than he’d thought of when he tried the first time, some were just a bit wonky. 

Lea had been the one to playfully try conjuring a bound bow. 

She feels a dent in her energy, yes, but this-

“Magic is magic,” Max says, thoughtfully as he stares at the bow. “Maybe the rules are what you place on yourself?”

Lea shakes her head. “No, it can’t be that simple, the circles are a fucking mess, but they wouldn’t be able to manage stopping shit like this unless some particularly horrible fan theories are true.”

Max tilts his head. “Bad teaching or?”

“Templars routinely smiting newly awakened mages, which kills the strongest ones,” Lea says gravely, fear starting to crawl up her throat. “But considering the other heinous shit-  _ fuck _ .  _ Fuck fuck fuck _ .”

Max’s face goes stoney, thinking carefully. 

They are anomalies. Not where they should be, not like the rest, built on a separate universe with separate universal constants. 

This could be a part of that. Could, key word. 

_ Well, shit _ . 

Lea is standing, dropping the bow to dispel it and beginning to flex her hands. 

“If we’re found, regardless, we’ll be dead. At least if the circles are restored,” Lea says quickly, voice quiet. “No one but Leliana can be divine. For our survival and countless others.”

“Agreed,” Max says, not wasting a second but still half lost in his thoughts and the threads connecting them. 

“We need more information. We are both the most and least knowledgeable individuals in Thedas. We need- fuck. I don’t know what we need, an  _ adult _ ?!” Lea says, voice going higher at the end and running a hand down her face. 

Max comes to a conclusion, a possible option he does not like. 

“Become Inner Circle? Real Inner Circle, to be deployed?” Max says quietly, voice wavering. 

He doesn’t want to kill people. Chickens and goats on the farm are one thing, sentient life is different. 

Lea starts walking, back and forth. It’s funny, she never paced before all this. 

“We’re untrained, unblooded,” Lea says, brain spinning. “More liability than help. And the second any of the other older members of the inner circle see us they’ll know.”

She can’t argue that the influence wouldn’t help, greatly, to at least have access to more books than the shitty library in that Chantry filled with propaganda and verses. 

Max rocks to himself, one arm wrapped around his knees while he looks out at the floor in front of him. They knew the situation was bad, Max knew it, but-

Their magic complicates things as much as it eases it. Which is to be expected, as nothing is ever easy for them these days. 

Bad. This is conclusively bad is what they’re both saying, chanting in their minds. 

The fireplace crackles. 

Lea doesn’t want to kill people. The whole point of not being a healer anymore was because she didn’t want the power over someone living and dying, okay? She  _ can’t _ . 

She said they were unblooded, but it wasn’t true. She was blooded enough to know what they’d be in for. 

Five days. It wasn’t long, it was shorter than a full week. The Herald asleep and then not and then asleep again, and in between she couldn’t sit idle while men and women died. 

Blood under her nails. The needle going through skin. Fighting with the other healers of sanitation because she  _ wasn’t _ going to let her patients die from preventable infection. 

People screamed when they came in. People cried for their mothers or just cried. Some were already dying from blood loss, passed out. Others were silent with shock. 

Violence for violence is the rule of beasts. She doesn’t know if she could.

They’re not built for this. 

“Do we interfere?” Lea asks quietly. 

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what to do-

No. No, she knows. Her inaction- It would be simplest to let things play out, to turn her eye from the lives and deaths and strings of fate and leave things be. She  _ wants _ to. 

She wants to not do anything. Cowardice as it is. Which is fair, any other person in her situation she wouldn’t blame for it, she wouldn’t.

“How much?” Max asks back, eyes a bit glazed, instead of really answering. 

“How much is too much?” Lea says back, words quick on her tongue and her eyes burning.


	3. Violence for Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...is the rule of beasts.

Grand Enchanter Vivienne and Sera appear within a day of each other. 

They get to see Sera first, because tavern. Easy conversation, a little joking around is how Lea reacts to her. 

Max. Well, Max finds her with her hands in the larder. 

“No, not that one,” Max says when he spots her, frowning. 

Sera blows a raspberry at him in response. 

“There’s one over there, it’s going to get thrown out soon. Don’t mess with the newer ones,” Max says. He doesn’t mind pranks, just not with the stuff he needs. 

He turns back to where he’d been prepping tomorrow’s breakfast, putting things in their places and checking to make sure they have enough honey to put in the porridge. 

Sera walks over to the other one he pointed out, eyes narrowed on him, but Max is a bit busy with other things. 

And thus starts their odd relationship of Max not messing with her pranking unless it impedes his food making, and her trying to figure him out. Lea thinks it’s hilarious. 

—

Lahlas and his party come back at a reasonable time, midday, a week and a half after they left. Lahlas, of course, comes straight to the tavern to mess with Max and Lea. 

He comes through the back kitchen entrance, and Max blinks at him. 

“What, no cheerful greeting?” Lahlas says, grinning. 

“You’re alive? Congratulations?” Max responds, completely serious. “It seems the stabby extroverts are back.”

Lahlas slumps, pouting. 

“Rude. You and your sister are rude,” Lahlas says. “I’m going to go see if she treats me kinder, but I have a feeling she will do the exact same thing.”

Max tosses a bread roll at Lahlas with a roll of his eyes. 

“Eat, you look skinny.”

Lahlas straightens up and grins brightly in response, taking a bite of the roll and heading into the tavern proper. 

Lea spots him immediately, walking up with a smirk. 

“Oh look, you live.”

Lahlas groans. 

“Your brother just said that,” He informs her, pouting again already. 

“We are on the same wavelength. I saw you recruited a Jenny. Good on you,” Lea hums, patting Lahlas’s cheek. 

“You know about the Red Jennies?” Lahlas asks, head tilting. 

Lea shrugs. More than she should, honestly. 

“Little people. Eyes and ears everywhere, and other dramatics. You want a drink? I am supposed to be working right now,” Lea says, waving him towards an empty table. 

“I’d like a long nap, but I’ll settle for that,  _ da’len _ ,” Lahlas teases at the end. 

Lea doesn’t even look over to kick his leg, grinning. 

“Ow. Rude, you and your brother are the actual worst,” Lahlas hisses, shaking that leg out before sitting down. 

“Of course, of course, ma’halla. Now order something before Flissa throws something,” Lea says.

“An ale, please, with less abuse on my body on the side.”

Oh this dude makes it too easy. 

“How much abuse counts as less?”

“I take it back, no abuse. I’m a fragile fragile flower, da’fen,” Lahlas says faux mournfully, holding up placating hands. 

“Uh Huh. Coming right up.”

That interaction, in the very least, should heat those rumors back up. Then again, Lahlas flirted with anyone he thought he could get a rise out of, or an interesting reaction, so this particular type of rumor wouldn’t be the last or the oddest. 

Lea comes back over with a tankard of ale and, as requested, no further abuse. 

“You need to hang around the cabin again tonight?” Lea asks, quietly, her joking attitude shifting into concern easily. 

Lea ain’t good at peopling, not on a personal level and interacting, but she knows when someone is hurting or needs help at least. 

The Herald mask comes down a little, and Lahlas smiles much more subdued like. 

“If it’s not a bother?”

Insecurity in those words, from the guy who’s gonna save the world twice over. 

“You’re not a bother,” Lea says firmly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a big enough cabin, what’s one more troubled teen?”

“I have my Vallaslin,” Lahlas defends, trying to seem older than he is. 

“Coming of age and feeling like an adult are two different thinks, dude,” Lea says, making a face. “How you’re managing to pull the Hinterlands together with spite and luck is beyond me.”

“You’re welcome to join me, I could use people who aren’t bickering half the time,” Lahlas grumbles. “Your brother could actually make a good meal out of those rations, too.”

Lea-

Lea wants to say yes, almost. Even knowing all the bloodshed and shit she might prefer it to drunk people and alcohol. 

“I’d have to get better at healing first,” Lea says dryly. “I’m fairly certain you get yourself into many bloody messes.”

She should look into healing spells, though. That’s on the to do list. Maybe slice her hand open and?

Er. Probably not. Accidental blood magic is probably not a thing-

Wait, actually, she could try it, and try and do the Skyrim Healing Hands spell. That is decidedly on the to do list. 

Lahlas’s eyes brighten. “With your super secret-“

Lea gives him her unimpressed look before he can finish, and he laughs. 

Ugh. Boys. Why do men?

—

Max watches anxiously while Lea looks at her bare thigh and the knife. 

“This is a terrible idea,” Max says. 

“No shit,” Lea grumbles, taking a deep breath. 

“ _ Pleasedontbebloodmagic- _ “

With that, Lea slices her thigh enough to bleed a little, and is grimacing severely. 

She holds her hand over the cut, and Max feels her aura pulse with moving energy until-

Her hand lights up gold, the magic sounding like soft twinkles, and gold surrounds the injury, leaving only a small sliver of new skin and the leftover blood.

“Oh thank fuck,” Max grumbles, still fiddling with his hands. 

“Seconded, thirded and quadruple agreed. I’m so stupid,” Lea hisses, grabbing a cloth from nearby to wipe up the leftover blood. “You should try a barrier. That way we each have a useful thing.”

“Runes are useful,” Max points out, but he’s already grounding his form for the spell he’s going to try. 

“True,” Lea says, pulling her pants back up. “That didn’t take any mana at all, so I’m hoping it’ll work on the heavier shit.”

Max nods, shutting his eyes and feeling the pulsing connection to the fade within himself. 

Protect. Breathable. Nothing aggressive can come in. Shield. 

He spreads his magic out, and-

It sounds a little like a whip cracking, but lower and less resonance, and when Max opens his eyes he has a faint green dome around him. 

“Oh, shit,” Lea says lowly, reaching over and her hand passing right through. “Should I punch it?”

Max shrugs, vaguely? He doesn’t know??

Lea sends a light punch at the dome and grumbles a quick “ow ow ow” when she hits solid magic. 

“Sorry!” Max says, and with a flick of his fingers the dome falls away. He pats her shoulder. 

“No no, stupid gets stupid. We know it works though! Now you have to try casting it on me, and then we can switch. You healing, me barriers.”

Max grimaces. Useful skill, but. Blood. His blood. 

“You don’t gotta, but I’d prefer you could help yourself,” Lea says, looking over with a concerned frown. 

They end the night knowing both of them can heal and throw up barriers. Useful. Protecting and supporting they can do. 

Then Lahlas comes in, arms full of his blankets and shit and whining about being so lonely on the floor. 

—

Pride is being deceptively agreeable. 

“You are preparing for a real hunt, are you not?” 

Lea narrows her eyes at him. 

“Oh! There is that pride!” Pride declares, raising his silver head high. “You do bare your fangs, if pressed.”

Lea huffs a laugh. “I still have no clue what you’re talking about. As far as I can tell I’m closer to Compassion than Pride.”

Pride would be grinning, if deer could grin. 

“That is what you think, I can feel pride, Hunter. It is my essence. And you have much of it hidden, waiting to rear it’s head.”

That’s not ominous at all. 

“Uh Huh. I’ll just have to trust your word there, Pride. Wanna do some target practice? A competition?” Lea asks, knowing making it a competition would catch his attention. 

Pride shifts into a Forsworn looking man without hesitation, a deer helm covering his face and his legs covered by fur pants. 

“I accept!” He says, shoulders back and a compound bow like Lea’s appearing in his hands. 

Lea rolls her eyes. At least fade practice counts are real practice. 

She beats him, by the way, and he looks at her like she’s just proven a point. Very rude of him. 

—

Valor wants to fight a giant this time. Does Max really need to say more? Why couldn’t he get a normal spirit friend, with less need for acting out great feats of strength. 

—

Max looks down at the crying kid in front of him. 

Corin, one of the orphans that occasionally ran errands in the kitchen. City elf if he had to guess.

He’d noticed the kid’s odd behavior a week ago. First Max was wary incase of abuse, but hadn’t seen any. 

And then the kid sparked.

Thankfully, no one else had been in the room. It was late and Max had been cleaning up a few things that had been left out. He’d have to pock at Tilly, not a good work eithic, that one.

Corin freaked though. Curled up in a ball and crying.

Max didn’t like it when people cried.

“I’m sorry ser- please don’t tell anyone- I won’t do it again!”

The rambling terror went on and all Max could think was what the hell?

Inching over to the kid, Max stopped when the boy flinched. He really wished Lea was here, she’s better at these things, but it would take too long. This had to be handled. Now.

Slowly, as to not make any sudden movements, Max sits down in front of Corin, just out of arms reach.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone, especially if you don’t want me too.”

The kid looks up, wary red rimmed eyes watching him. 

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Why?”

There’s something relaxing about a child’s bluntness, no stupid word games or mind tricks. Not unless you ask anyway.

Raising a hand slowly he flexes his fingers, making purple strips of electricity curl up and around them in zigzagging patterns. 

“That wouldn’t be exactly fair if I did, aye?”

The little elf’s eyes all but popped out of his head at the show of magic.

“Your like me!”

Winking at the kid Max raises his other hand to his lips and makes a shushing gesture.

“It’s a secret.”

Squeaking the kid covers his mouth rather enthusiastically.

“Sorry.”

The word is muffled, but Max just smiles.

“It’s fine, wanna meet someone? They’re really cool.”

Corin watches him for a second, thinking.

“Okay.”

Picking up the kid and setting them on his shoulders he makes a quick escape into the snowy night and out of Haven’s front gates.

Lea’s gonna love this.

—

“Right. So, this complicates the direct interference plans.”

Max shrugs, looking over at the sleeping kid in Lea’s bed. 

“He needed help.”

Lea sighs. “Well, fair enough. It’s not like our plans are ever brittle enough to not adapt. We’ll need to make sure we’re back often enough to teach him.”

Max nods, agreeing easily. 

And so there was now four regulars in the cabin on the outskirts of Haven. 

Still doesn’t feel crowded, though. 

—

Where one goes, the other will follow. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Max says, simply. Because they don’t. This world is owed nothing by them. 

“And yet we will,” Lea grumbles. 

“I’ll miss the kitchen,” Max says, resigned. 

“It’ll be around still,” Lea says in what she hopes is a reassuring manner, reaching over to pat his shoulder and pausing when Lahlas finally appears at their doorway. 

“You two are looking very fatalistic,” Lahlas says in greeting. “Who died?”

“ _ Us _ ,” Max snarks under his breath. 

“Lahlas, how would you like two healers on your team?” Lea asks instead of responding to that comment, even if they’re both thinking it. 

Lahlas blinks. 

“Are you serious?” Lahlas asks. “I can’t tell. Your joking is usually dry and with a serious face.”

“We’re serious,” Max says. 

Lahlas stares at the two of them for a long moment, before letting out a quiet “Oh.”

“The stay at home life too much for you?” Lahlas asks, pulling on the Herald mask and Lea gives him her certified unimpressed look. 

“Quit it, we’re not doing this for Heraldy bullshit reasons, it’s because we can help and you only have access to so many healing potions,” Lea says, resisting the urge to throw something at his head. 

“Oh, you were serious about the healing thing?” Lahlas says, eyebrows high and eyes wide. “Oh.  _ Oh _ .”

Then he’s grinning. 

“You two will annoy the shit out of Madame Vivienne. You’re on.”

Lea grimaces. 

“Yay us. Just don’t get us stabbed for being apostates?”

Lahlas waves a hand, walking over to set up his makeshift nest he seems fond of. “Don’t worry, I’m the Herald. They need me, and I can throw my weight around to keep you from the weird shem rules. What’s two more apostates?”

—

It turns out, two more apostates means being stared down by the advisors.

Lahlas owes Max and Lea each a sovereign. Damn. 

“So you saw fit to hide your abilities under our noses?” Leliana asks, arms behind her back casually. 

“To be fair, you’re a chantry based organization. The chantry doesn’t really like magic unless it benefits them,” Lea says, always the one to speak first between her and her brother. Said brother fumbling with his hands behind his back nervously. 

“You are healers and you hid it,” Leliana continues. 

“I healed how I could after the Breach,” Lea says simply. “I’m not fond of it, but Herald Lavellan requires healers if he’s going to be thrown at all of your problems.”

Weighted silence. 

“Well, anyways, we’re going to go pack for the Stormcoast! See you!” Lahlas cuts through the silence, throwing his arms over his two friends shoulders and quickly vacating the war-room. 

They can’t stop him if he’s not there to yell at!

The door shuts soundly behind them, and Lea sighs. 

“If she has me killed, I’m going to possess you. Viciously,” Lea threatens, giving him her Unimpressed Face (™). 

“You’re not going to die, because I’m putting the both of you in armor,” Lahlas says simply. 

“I thought she was going to stab us then and there,” Max grumbles, hands still fumbling together. 

“She wouldn’t, Cassandra might’ve though.”

So, Lahlas brings the siblings to the armory and gets to watch them pick through what armor he’s managed to drag back to Haven. 

Lea settles for some light armor, clearly built with rogues in mind with the leather on her limbs built for movement and the metal over her chest kept from shining. 

Max goes for something similar, though dark brown instead of grey, and more metal than hardened leather. 

“How long will we be gone?” Lea asks peering over at Lahlas. 

“Three weeks,” Lahlas says. “You know how to ride a horse, right?”

Lea grimaces. 

“Haven’t done it in at least a year, but yeah.”

He turns to Max, who is looking over the swords with a critical eye. 

“Hm? Oh. Yes.”

Well, that’s that. 

“Oh, do you need staves?” Lahlas asks. 

Lea makes a face. 

“No. I’ll just grab a dagger, thanks. Max?”

“Sword,” Max says simply, plucking one of the short swords of of the rack, testing its weight. “Haven’t used one in a while, but I know how.”

See? This would all go fine. And Lahlas would get to watch Lady Vivienne break her composure. 

—

“So. Are you in the habit of pulling apostates from all corners, Herald?”

Lea stares on at the road, ass hurting. Max does the same, ass hurting much less. 

What? He lived on a farm. Lea lived in the suburbs. 

“Ah, are you jealous, Madame? There is only one special place in my heart for you,” Lahlas flirts, because he’s a himbo. 

“Of course, my dear. I am simply concerned for the effectiveness of such healers,” Vivienne plays along seamlessly.

“You won’t be complaining when you’re bleeding out,” Max says frankly. 

“Is that so?” Vivienne asks. 

“Yeah. It is.”

“ _ Buuurn _ ,” Lea says blandly, looking around and petting her horse. 

“Quaint,” Vivienne says, voice dry. “And I’m sure you think your education outside the Circles more than adequate.”

“We really live rent free in your head, huh?” Lea asks, looking over at the woman with her resting bitch face. “Yes. Did you enjoy the pretty tricks they taught you in your cage?”

“You do not even carry a stave, darling. I doubt you have room to talk.”

Lea holds out a hand, and with a flex of her fingers and aura, a bound bow appears in it. 

“Yeah, don’t need one. Go off though.”

Lahlas and Max are snickering.

Vivienne looks shocked for a moment, before a mask comes securely over her face. 

“ _ I see _ .”

—

“Pure speculation. Depending on the magical release a rune like that would probably take you out with it.”

“Two connected runes?”

“Oh. Actually, that’s much simpler than what I’d been turning over in my head. Hand me two rocks?”

Lahlas blinks blearily at the two siblings, wanting to go to bed but also not wanting to miss the entertainment of watching their brains work. 

“They always like this, Herald?” Varric asks, cleaning Bianca. 

Lahlas hums. “Yup. Very smart. I like to listen and pretend I know what’s going on,” Lahlas says, before turning to the man and smirking. “That the only thing you’re cleaning tonight?”

Varric gives him a look. 

“I’m too old for you, number one,” Varric says. “Number two,  _ too old for you. _ ”

Lahlas sighs, and pointedly doesn’t pout. “Now that’s no fun.”

Lea makes an excited noise in her throat, holding up two faintly glowing rocks at Max. 

“Quit being a himbo, Lala.  _ Max _ , we can make things go  **_boom_ ** _. _ ”

Max cackles. 

“What does himbo mean, so I know how offended I should be?” Lahlas asks the younger woman. 

“No thoughts, head empty, thinking with your penis,” Lea says without looking over or skipping a beat. 

Varric snorts. “Oh, let me write that down.”

“My head is very full, thank you,” Lahlas says, now properly offended. 

“Of dirty, sinful thoughts,” Max says grimly while he looks over the rocks Lea just did something to. 

“The Divine would be shaking her head, bless her spirit,” Lea says in a similar tone. “Maker have mercy on us all, to have such a man in his light.”

“Amen.”

“You’re both agnostic, stop being rude,” Lahlas pouts. 

“You’re right. Fuck the Maker,” Lea hums, looking over at him. “And I do mean that literally. Andraste pegs the Maker.”

Varric is choking on air and Max is cackling again. 

Lahlas stifles his laughter, all too aware that Solas and Vivienne are sleeping in their tents nearby. 

“Blasphemy- someone cover the Herald’s ears,” Varric says through laughter. 

“And with that I bid ado,” Lea says, doing a tiny bow and walking off towards her and Max’s tent.

“W-Wait for me,” Lahlas says through stifled laughter, following her. 

What, as if he’d miss out on people to cuddle with now that they’re traveling with him?

—

Lea shakes Max awake, Lahlas groaning at the sudden awakening he also got. 

“ _ What the fuck-? _ ” Max grumbles, blinking awake. “We dying?”

“ **_Willpower._ ** That’s why our magic works like this- fucking  **_willpower_ ** ,” Lea hisses lowly, feeling like she’s the biggest fucking dumbass around. “Fuck me, it’s not them, we’re the anomalies. We’re stubborn earthlings!”

“Say it louder why don’t you,” Max says, wacking the younger girl’s head with a pillow. “Wait until I’m awake next time.”

There’s a tension that’s been running through Max since they left Haven. The anxiety and the dread mixing up into a cocktail of idle terror. 

He- He doesn’t want to kill anyone. 

He likes the kitchens, the smell of baking bread and the time put into icing cakes. He likes Lea’s idle laughter at whatever makes her giggle when she walks in. He likes the sound of pots and ladles hitting eachother and quiet calls of “on your right” and “hot plates”.

He’s scared. 

Lea’s good at ignoring things until she has to face them directly, it’s a coping mechanism built by an abusive household, but even she can feel Max’s fear and worry wafting off of him. 

So. Right. Distractions. 

“What weird mage stuff are you two talking about?” Lahlas asks, throwing an arm around Lea and holding her like an overgrown teddybear even after she hisses about cold feet. 

“The more stubborn you are, the more weird shit you can do with magic,” Max summarizes, stretching his arms. 

“I need to go stretch and exercise,” Lea grumbles, but doesn’t move out of the warm nest of blankets and pillows they’ve made. 

“And I need tea,” Max says with a sigh. 

“I need attention,” Lahlas says cheerfully.

Lea flicks his nose and escapes his clutches, crawling out of the tent with a blanket over her shoulders. 

“No attention for you, ma’halla, go bother someone else,” Lea grumbles, squinting at the morning light and Solas on watch. 

Ugh.  _ Solas.  _ The Egg. 

“Good morning,” Solas says in greeting. 

“Is it? Is it really?” Lea says blandly, unamused at the cold she’s only staving off with gratuitous amounts of warming runes on her blanket. 

Solas raises a ginger eyebrow, face placid, and Lea sighs, taking her blanket off and tossing it back in the tent, walking to the side to start her warm ups. 

“Is that some sort of wilds ritual?” Vivienne jabs when she comes out of her tent looking not at all like she just slept in a tent. 

“Yes. Next I’ll start sacrificing blood to the moon and ritualistically do sit ups,” Lea says, visibly unimpressed. “Were you hoping to join?”

Vivienne doesn’t give her a response, instead sitting daintily on a log by the fire. 

Lea goes back to her stretches with a shake of her head, twisting her legs up in odd positions simply because she can. 

“Lea, I love you, please don’t twist your legs weird near me,” Max says when he walks over to join. 

“You’re jealous of my ability to do a split.”

“I’m jealous of the people who got to sleep in beds last night,” Max snarks. 

All in all. They’ll probably be fine?

—

So. There’s only so much that you can distract yourself in an impossible situation after, arguably, some major generational trauma compounding in the year 2020. 

Or, in simpler terms, Lea’s depression is relapsing. Max’s anxiety is being held down by spite and sheer force of will. 

It ain’t good, Chief. 

“This counts in the ‘2020 is the actual worst’ category, don’t it?” Lea asks idly, the both of them alone in their tent for right now. “I should’ve done apocalypse bingo.”

“At least you’re not in America anymore?” Max asks, quieter. “Though the racism in comparison is only worse here. And the corrupt people in power.”

Lea sneers. “ _ Fucking bourgeoisie _ . Can’t escape them even this far away.”

Those were issues, by the way. The racism and corrupt people in power. 

“So. It’s all kind of a mess, ain’t it?” Lea says, face dropping. “Still an uphill battle, just like. A real battle.”

She wonders if it’s worth it, even if she shoves the thought down with extreme prejudice. This world is worth it. Lea knows that, but she always remembers how much simpler it’d be to just pull a runner and hide somewhere. 

They both know it. 

_ Lea’s a piece of shit for dragging Max into this _ . Lea is wrong, of course, but her brain still thinks it.

Max, on the other hand, is more concerned with the possibility that they both might die the first time they get in a fight. Which is bad. He would like very much to survive to twenty. 

—

Fighting. 

Max’s barriers snap into place around Lea and himself first, then Lahlas, then the others. In that order. 

The two of them stay back, out of the way of the rest of the party but close enough to help if they need to. 

Bandits. Fucking bandits. 

Max is dealing with overstimulation, but Lea is focused. Nothing slows in battle, it all just stays just as fast. It’s like the one car wreck she’d been in.

The bandits look hungry. Mismatched armor, shitty swords. Desperate. That’s what she sees. Not rank and file enemies to bulldoze over. People. Unbearably, wholly,  _ people _ . 

One comes running at her and Max, spotting weak links. 

Max is in his bubble, eyes glazed and focused fully on maintaining the barriers. 

Lea is fully awake. 

“ _ You don’t have to fight us _ ,” Lea says, hands held up and stepping out of the way of a sloppy sword slash that clangs against her barrier. “We’re not trying to hurt you.”

He looks desperate, and something in Lea is desperate too. How long has his last meal been? How many people have been displaced by the chaos and forced into violence because there’s no better way?

“Shut your mouth and die, Apostate!” The man cries, eyes wide. 

“Put down your sword,” Lea continues, voice strong through the terror and adrenaline. “ _ Please _ . You don’t have to die here.”

Something in the man wavers, so Lea quickly tackles him, kicking the sword out of his hand and holding him down. 

“Chill-  _ fuck _ , chill out!” Lea says, very aware that her hazy Brazilian jiu jitsu classes didn’t prepare her for people who’re fighting to survive. “I’m keeping you down so you don’t stab me, bro. I think we’ve had enough needless carnage in the past few months!”

Max turns, falling out of the overwhelming haze to see his very unbearably nice friend holding down a thrashing man and a few bodies on the ground near the main party who are still fighting some stragglers.

“Get the fuck off me, Apostate whore!” The man shouts. 

“That’s very rude but I can’t blame you right now!” Lea says back, visibly panicked. “Quit struggling, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Max heads over quickly, assisting in holding the man down even if the itch of ‘ _ too much too much going on _ ’ bites his skin.

The man slumps, panting. 

“We clear?” Lahlas shouts up ahead, before turning and going wide eyed at the situation his friends are in. “ _ Shit _ !”

“Deep breaths, I’m not going to kill you for being hungry and desperate, you’re safe. Mostly.  _ Breathe _ ,” Lea tells the bandit while the rest of the party is running over. 

“Lea, what are you sitting on top of a bandit?” Lahlas asks, pointing his daggers threateningly at said bandit. 

“There’s a saying back home,” Lea says weakly. “Don't kill if you can wound, don't wound if you can subdue, don't subdue if you can pacify, and don't raise your hand at all until you've first extended it.”

Max makes a noise in the back of his throat. Wonder Woman?

“That is a lovely phrase, darling, but you have a criminal underneath you,” Vivienne says. 

“He’s a victim of desperate times,” Lea says frankly, before looking down at the man under her. “Sorry to sit on top of you, if I let you up and you don’t attack me I can give you food. I’m sorry for your friends.”

Lea has no clue what the fuck she is doing right now, but she will not become a tool for violence if she doesn’t have to. 

Max feels too numb and too loud at the same time. He’s sort of going with whatever Lea does. 

The bandit glares up at Lea, but looks around at her very armed comrades and slumps, all the fight out of him. 

“ _ Fine _ ,” He bites out. 

Lea hops off of him, one eye warily on Lahlas and co, and another on the bandit. Reaching back into her pack, she pulls out her bag of jerky. 

“It’s not a lot, but food is food,” Lea says, holding out the bag that he snatches. She’s not bothered, he seems like he’s going through it. 

She holds out a hand up. 

The man glances at the dead bodies of his fellow bandits, then back at her hand, and takes it. 

Lea pulls him up. 

“I’m sorry,” Lea says. 

He looks incredulous. 

“Right, uh, we’re gonna go clean up the bodies,” Lahlas says slowly, turning on his heel and going to where Varric is searching said bodies. 

“You’re greener than fucking green,” The Bandit says to Lea and Max, glancing over at his kicked away sword. 

“And you were probably a farmhand,” Lea says frankly. “I’ll be honest with you, the second I turn my back one of them is going to try and find a reason to get rid of you. Would you like to join the Inquisition?”

Can Lea reiterate she has no clue what she’s doing?

“I haven’t much choice,” The Bandit says with a sneer. 

“Death is an option. Not a fun option, but always an option,” Lea says. “The Inquisition will pay you and take care of you. It’s better than attacking people on the road.”

Lea doesn’t look at the bodies that were probably people too, like this man, before. These are people. They deserve at least a chance. Just a chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what’s crazy to me? How quickly most MCIT get over killing people in droves. Compartmentalization is a scary bitch. That being said, Max and Lea aren’t built like that.


	4. Feel Good Inc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just making these titles whatever song comes to mind and you can’t stop me. mwahahhaahaaaa.

“I learned how to Junko Pose and rap Hai Domo for absolutely no reason,” Lea whispers, wide eyed looking into the void. 

“I understand half of that,” Max says, fiddling with two stones, clacking them together as he rolls them around in his hand. 

“Should I be concerned?” Lahlas asks, looking at Lea. 

“It’s not your concern, Lala, I’m simply grieving for lost time,” Lea says, grimacing. 

“You can rap Hai Domo to us?” Max offers. 

Lea gives him a look that says exactly why she can’t start rapping in Japanese to a bunch of Theodesians, and he holds up his hands in the universal ‘alright I’ll shut up’ sign.

“Doki doki?”

Lea throws a snowball at him. She doesn’t miss. 

—

“What’re you writing there, Bleeder?” 

Lea looks up, lifting an eyebrow. 

“Bleeder?” She asks, in deadpan. 

“Bleeding heart doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Varric says with a small grin. 

Lea shakes her head, looking back down. She’d been working on her Game of Thrones 2.0, (electric boogaloo), because she doesn’t have a phone anymore to be typing this shit out on and she can’t just. _Not_ write.

What a fucking crazy concept. Her, the girl who uses escapism like a divine sword, not indulging in her escapist fantasies.

“Nothing to compare to your mastery of the written word, Master Tethras,” Lea says simply, looking back down. 

She’d been on the part where Bran falls. No she isn’t cutting out the twincest plot, she has to say somewhat true to the source material. 

Honestly the whole plot would fall part of Jaime and Cersei hadn’t got it on. So. In it stays. 

“Liar,” Lahlas interrupts. “I’ve read your stuff, you certainly know more about grammar than me.”

Lea looks up again only to make her Unimpressed Face ™.

“Come on, don’t be modest, I’m sure it’s fine,” Varric encourages, most likely wanting to get a peak at the words. 

Meanwhile, the poor fucking bandit Lea’s dragged into this, Daren, a thirty something used to be farmhand now about to be conscripted into the Inquisition, sits awkwardly at the edge of camp. Likely contemplating how life got him to this point. 

Of all the companions brought along on this merry adventure to reach the Storm Coast, Varric is arguably the least phased by them picking up a tagalong that wanted to kill them before. 

Which. Speaks a lot on how extended exposure to heroes of Thedas affects you. 

Max comes wandering over from where he’d left to get firewood. Everything’s getting wetter the closer they get to the Storm Coast, but Max has a weird second sense for finding dry wood. 

Which, he probably doesn’t need. They are Mages, they can manage a drying spell without burning anything. 

Max sets the wood down near the fire and sits on Lea’s open side, Lahlas on her other. 

“What are you going to do when the rain gets all over those papers?” Lahlas asks, voice half teasing as he reaches around Lea to poke Max. 

“Blood magic,” Lea says in deadpan, scribbling. 

Max huffs a laugh, swatting at Lahlas. 

“You are unusually casual to joke about such things, as an apostate,” Solas says placidly from his seat. 

“It’s what they expect,” Lea says. “Blood and demon pacts. Why not joke about it? There’s literally nothing else to joke about these days but things that’ll piss people off.”

“Well said, Bleeder, well said,” Varric says, having stood up to wander past her writing form like he isn’t trying to catch sight of the words on her papers. 

Lahlas starts giggling. 

“Right, like Andraste pegs the Maker,” Lahlas says, clearly having been set off by that. 

Daren makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. 

“I’m surrounded by heretics,” Vivienne says blandly, coming out of her tent. 

“Are you trying to say Andraste wasn’t a top, Madame? Because that’s a lie. You’re lying to yourself,” Lea says, face still visibly unbothered and not looking at any of them. 

Ugh, she forgot a word. What is it? Has to do with… shit. She’s lost her train of thought too. Lea glares at the papers in her hands with thoughts of bloody retribution. 

Stupid Game of Thrones. She might kill someone off who was supposed to live for that. 

—

They don’t get into any more fights until Lahlas meets this Iron Bull and his merc band, but Lahlas stays closer to Lea and Max than before. 

Part of him was forced to confront all the murdering he’d been doing in the Hinterlands, but to be fair, everything in the Hinterlands has wanted him dead. Viscerally. With lots of blood. 

Lea is a bleeding heart like Varric said, and Max will follow what she does. Though, at least Max has been keeping a sharp eye on Daren the Criminal Shem like the rest of them. 

Lea on the other hand had been feeding him her own rations, like a stray halla. And when Lahlas tried to get her to keep them for herself she just said some shit about forgetting to eat lunch most of the time anyways. 

Lahlas feels remorse for all those times he troubled his Keeper now. People are stupid and must be protected from themselves. 

“Hand him over to scout Harding, Lea,” Lahlas has said exasperatedly when they’d come up to the Inquisition Camp, uncomfortably wet with the constant rain. 

“Daren?” Lea asks Daren the Criminal Shem instead of acknowledging him. Lahlas rolls his eyes. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Daren the Criminal Shem says gruffly. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Lea says with a snort, patting his back. 

So now Lahlas has to drag around a nervous gruff Criminal Shem because his friend likes collecting strays. 

Iron Bull, who is now traveling with them while Lahlas has to check and make sure his scouts aren’t dead, of course notices all the shifty looks everyone is going Daren the Criminal Shem. 

“You guys got a problem with that guy?” Bull asks casually, walking ahead with Lahlas.

“He’s a bandit,” Lahlas says. “Lea doesn’t do killing people though, convinced him to join the Inquisition.”

Bull hums. 

“Weird to drag around two healers.”

Lahlas’s herald mask slips firmly on, pieces threading together and clicking into place. 

Lahlas grins. 

“More pretty faces to see? Why would I complain?” Lahlas asks. He hears Lea scoff behind him. 

“He will bleed out if you let him,” Max says quietly, voice dry. 

“You’re a walking mess given sentience, _ma’halla_ ,” Lea adds, and she’s been a bit quiet since they picked up Iron Bull. “You need all the help you can get.”

Well, she is probably from far up north, probably uncomfortable around Qunari?

“Glad to see everyone has faith in our Herald,” Varric says with a snort. 

They quiet down again. 

Lahlas should’ve expected the scouts to be dead. 

—

Upside! Lahlas got Lea to hand Daren the Criminal Shem to Harding. 

“Must we cross the dubious wet rocks and climb up the mountain? Must we?” Lea asks weakly. 

Lahlas looks back, blinking at how she looks paler than usual. 

“Aw, don’t worry, _da’len_ , I’ll hold your hand,” Lahlas teases, walking back to start messing up her tied back hair. 

“Great, but I’m not touching the mark. Makes my hairs stand up,” Lea says without missing a beat, snatching his hand and holding it firmly. 

Lahlas blinks in surprise, before grinning. 

“Onward!” 

And now he’s walking at head with Lea holding his hand in a tight grip, until they run into the dragonlings. 

Max’s barriers fly up and Lea is hopping back behind a charging Iron Bull.

Lahlas shifts left, weaknesses around the dragonlings’ legs? He presses forward, twirling his daggers and stabbing the one going for Iron Bull’s blind side. 

Hard scales, but if he stabs like that and _twists-_

His barrier shatters. 

Lahlas’s right side burns. Right. He just got bit. Fun. 

“ _Shit!_ ” He hears someone shout behind him. It smells like fire and blood and he stabs the dragonling in the eye and twists. 

Max comes forward and his barrier snaps back in place, sword slashing a dragonling away from him. 

“Coming at your left!” Lahlas hears Lea say, and he pointedly doesn’t stab her when he feels her warm hand land on his shoulder. 

“Fucking _dumbass_ ,” She hisses, and he’s dragged out of the fray. 

Lahlas winces. His side pangs and burns. 

A dragonling smacks into Lea’s barrier. 

“ _Vishante Kaffas!_ ” Lea shouts, and suddenly an ice spike goes through the creature. “ _Dava ma’masa, Fenhedis’lasa!_ ”

Lea’s hands glow gold and Lahlas lets out a relieved breath. The aches in his side subside quickly. 

“Clear!” Varric calls. 

“That shit is going to scar,” Lea grumbles, and Lahlas looks down to see her hands are trembling. Blood on her fingers. 

“I’ll remember to be less of a dumbass,” Lahlas says with his Herald grin, hoping the teasing will calm her down. 

Max sidles up, not visibly injured and checking over Lea. 

“You okay?” Max murmurs. 

“I fucking hate blood,” Lea hisses, shaking her head. “Not now. Go loot those corpses, ma’halla,” She directs at Lahlas at the end. 

Lahlas sheaths his daggers and gives Lea a shoulder pat, turning to focus on the dead Dragonlings. 

Oh he’s gonna do so much shit with those hides. 

—

“That was a Tevene swear.”

Lahlas blinks, looking over to see Iron Bull looking back at Lea. 

“So it was. And then I used Elvhen swears,” Lea says dully. 

“You don’t look Ferelden,” Iron Bull continues. 

“Neither do you, Ben Hassrath,” Lea says, tone still the same. 

“Let’s play nice, shall we?” Lahlas interjects. 

“Who said anything I was saying wasn’t nice, Lala?” Lea asks innocently, switching her gaze on him. “You have dragonling blood on your nose, by the way. And your ear. And your hair.”

Lahlas immediately starts patting at his face and hair, then narrows his eyes when nothing comes up red. 

“That’s rude. You’re very rude, _Leonora,_ ” Lahlas says, stopping himself from sticking his tongue out at her.

“Oh woe, my full first name. Say my full name, coward, no balls,” Lea says snidely, looking very put upon for a girl stuck in the rain and climbing cliffs with this crew. 

Varric snorts. 

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. And hadn’t realized you were so interested in my balls,” Lahlas says, batting his eyelashes. 

“I could not be less interested in any balls, frankly,” Lea says in deadpan. 

Lahlas is kind of sad Vivienne is at camp. He would’ve gotten to hear her scoff about this. 

They quiet down for a while, trekking up a gravelly half path. 

Max grumbles something beside Lea, and she lets out a guffaw. 

“ _No_. Stop. The imagery,” Lea says through giggles. 

“Share with the class?” Varric asks. 

“I _fucking-_ ” Lea cuts herself off, laughing. “No. Good things come to those who wait, Master Tethras.”

Then, they come upon one of those weird astrariums. 

Max and Lea are on it before Lahlas can go near it, which honestly he’s alright with. He doesn’t get those things and everyone knows it. 

“The constellation Servani?” Lea mutters. Max hums in agreement, and Lea waves him up to let him work through the puzzle. 

“You two seem remarkably familiar with these types of puzzles,” Solas says placidly. 

“You seem like you don’t need that stave at all but don’t want to draw attention to yourself,” Lea says without skipping a beat. 

Lahlas lets out a choked laugh. 

“ _Buuurn_ ,” Max says, and suddenly the Astrarium lights up. 

“And how could you know that?” Solas asks, carefully not confirming or denying anything. 

Huh. So the hobo Apostate does have secrets. Well, Lahlas already realized that much, he doesn’t have the secret keeping Vallaslin for no reason, but it’s interesting to get a little revealed. 

“You’re talking to a mage who doesn’t need a stave,” Lea says frankly, looking over at him and stepping down from the Astrarium. “Takes one to know one.”

“Yeah, while we’re on the subject, how does that work?” Iron Bull asks. 

“Magic, first and foremost, runs on willpower,” Lea says, and Lahlas suddenly remembers the whispered conversation he’d been half awake for. 

“They’re stubborn as fuck!” Lahlas says cheerfully. 

“Correct,” Max says.

“I don’t want to carry a stave, so I won’t. To be fair most of what we know about magic was just us seeing what works and rolling with it,” Lea explains, stretching her arms high above her head. 

“Right, you kids would’ve came into your magic around the time the circles fell,” Varric says grimly. 

“ _Yuuuup_ ,” Lea drags out. “Though I wouldn’t put myself at the mercy of armored men who could make me helpless on a whim, regardless.”

Lahlas has spotted elfroot. 

Lahlas is now picking that elfroot. This very second. 

“I agree, the circles were cages filled with corruption,” Solas says. 

Lahlas looks up from where he’s pulled up that elfroot and spots a bear nearby. 

“ _Bear!_ ” Lahlas shouts. 

“Don’t fucking shout that’s how you attract it’s- _SHIT,_ ” Max hisses, but it’s too late. Here comes a new fur pelt for armor. 

—

“ _Nice dies est hodie._ ”

“ _Et crassa infectum est_ \- Oh you got me there,” Lea glares at Iron Bull. “Can’t you mind your business, Benhassrath?”

“Against the job description,” Iron Bull says with a deceptively at ease smile. 

It’s just the two of them out by the fire at camp. Lea called up her stupid Latin classes half awake without thinking. Great, now he probably thinks she’s a spy. 

Which, honestly? A shame. She loves Bull. Big muscles. Big brain. Though in real life those two things could mean the end of her. 

“So. You’re from Tevinter?” Bull asks. 

“I’m from hell, here to drag you down for your sins,” Lea says in deadpan. “What does it matter? I’m in the ass end of Thedas with the rest of this ragtag group.”

“Just making sure you’re not gonna try anything on the Boss,” Bull says simply. “Can’t have shit conflicting with my work.”

Lea gives him an unimpressed look. 

“If I were a spy, I wouldn’t have liked you stepping on my turf,” Lea says. “And from my position I could’ve told Lahlas you had bad vibes and never have you hired. Trust me when I say I’m really not as interesting as you seem to think I am.”

Which is a lie. She’s a seventeen-year-old in another world from her original. And she’s magic. 

Bull grins apologetically. 

“Figured. Just had to make sure.” He holds out a hand. “No hard feelings?”

Lea is wary of putting her too small hand in his, wondering what conclusions that big brain is going to come to when he feels the lack of callus. 

Lea clasps her hand in his, and after a moment they release again. Long enough for him to know she has baby hands and for her to take in how quickly he could probably snap her neck with a flick of his wrist. 

“You don’t have a Vint accent,” Bull says. 

Lea gives him her unimpressed look. 

“Denying it will only spur you on, won’t it?” Lea asks rhetorically. “Would you like me to start bullshitting, if you excuse the pun? Because I can start bullshitting to rival Master Tethras.”

Max is going to think this is hilarious when she tells him about this shit. Leave it to her to accidentally convince Iron Bull she’s from Tevinter. 

All cause she’s a fucking nerd and learned a dead language. _Ugh_. Listen, colleges wanted two years of language, and she wasn’t just gonna pick Spanish or French. Even if Spanish would’ve been super helpful in Florida. 

—

Conclusively, if there is a god they really shouldn’t have given Max and Lea this power. 

Mostly Lea. No, Max too. Max wants to make things explode. Lea wants to become the water bender eleven year old her yearned to be. 

“Shove mana into it,” Lea says with a hiss, eyes blazing and dripping wet. “What a wonderful idea, Leonora. You’re so smart. Top of your class. **_Dumbass_ **.”

At least it isn’t blood magic. 

They’re on their way to the Hinterlands, because Lahlas wants to check out the lead Leliana had on the Wardens. 

Max leans over at Lea from their seats by the fire and plucks the jar she’d been struggling to open out of her hands, taking five seconds to open it and hand it over. 

“I am a useless bag of flesh not evolved enough to withstand the horrors my ancestors died to get me to,” Lea says grimly, staring down at her hands with a dead look in her eyes. 

“Some people just aren’t built for callus?” Max says in what he hopes is a helpful tone. 

“ _My body different_ ,” Lea quotes in a funny accent, and Max snickers. 

“You kids alright over there?” Varric asks, walking over with Bull and the Ram that’s probably going to be their dinner. 

“Just contemplating how I’ve survived this long,” Lea says dryly. 

Honestly she is surprised, and that’s not the relapsed depressive episode talking. 

No callus, couldn’t do a push-up at the beginning of this mess, little to no fighting skills. 

Huh. She’s a bonafide miracle. _Yippee_. 

“Aw, you’re not so bad, Bleeder,” Varric says with a grin. “‘Sides, you’ve got Baker at your side. Speaking of, wanna help make this ram edible, Baker?”

Max grimaces, and walks over to help prepare the ram. 

It took one night of suffering these people’s best effort at cooking for him to step in. He went to school for food, he is not putting those skills to waste when the alternative is questionable, bland stew. 

“Yeah, Max is a dear, ain’t he?” Lea says with a grin. “Love you Max.”

“Love you too, Lea,” Max says, not a second thought put into it as he gestures for Bull to put down the Ram on a stump he sanitized for this purpose. 

He doesn’t know what Thedas food poisoning will do to him. He doesn’t want to know. 

Lahlas appears, because he is always called to places where he can create the most chaos. 

“Why don’t you say you love me, _da’len_ ,” Lahlas whines, teasing. 

“Ma’halla, if your ego gets any larger you won’t fit through doors,” Lea says, tone switching from cheery to cutting in an instant. “Me saying I love my dear brother is much different then whatever ideas you’ll get in that not so holy head of yours.”

“Do the three of you not share a bed? Or have I been hallucinating?” Vivienne cuts in daintily, appearing at just the right moment to further feed the flames of chaos. 

“Oh yes, Madame. I have my wicked way with the Holy Herald of Andraste every night,” Lea says blandly. “He assists in my dark, pagan rituals to the moon goddess. Tell her, Max.”

“Mind your business, Madame Vivienne,” Max says from where he’s making quick work cutting through the Ram, making _eye contact_ with the Grand Enchanter. 

_Oop_. 

Eye contact spells danger from him. 

“Do you Mages ever get along?” Varric asks, moving to lighten the sudden tension. 

“From these options?” Max grumbles, turning back to his work. 

Lea huffs a laugh. 

“In all seriousness, Madame, we cuddle. It helps stave away the unending existential dread of existence,” Lea says, looking over at Vivienne and offering that olive branch. 

“I just like hugs,” Lahlas adds, sitting down beside Lea and throwing an arm around her shoulder. 

Lea pinches his arm and yelps. 

“ _Ow._ ”

“ _Consent_ , Lahlas. Ask, or I set you on fire next time,” Lea says with narrow eyes. 

“May I _please_ throw my arm around your shoulder, oh great _Leanora_ ,” Lahlas asks. 

“Why yes, thank you for asking.”

Lea isn’t adverse to hugs or anything, it’s just a good reminder. Especially for when she _doesn’t_ want to be touched. And putting him in that habit avoids him just wandering up to Max and hugging him, and probably getting an elbow to the stomach. 

Calculation and manipulation. How _quaint_. 

The others sort of watch this interaction with raised eyebrows. Max watches them watch the interaction with raised eyebrow. 

Max shakes his head. _Adults._ They just don’t get it, no matter where you are. 

Later on, once the whole traveling party is settled with tasty stew in hand and some are making small talk, Max is happy to report he is seated nowhere near Vivienne or Solas. 

“Max, I’m having some sad boi hours, ima head to the tent for a little while,” Lea mumbles to Max, before standing up. 

“You need company?” Max asks just as quiet, suddenly alert. 

Lea grins. “Nah. See you in a bit.”

She wanders off and into the tent and Max turns back to his bowl of stew. 

“She okay?” Lahlas asks, having probably heard the ‘ _sad boi hours_ ’ bit with his elf ears. 

“She will be,” Max says with a shrug. “Just don’t bother her for a bit. She’ll come back when she comes back.”

The only way Max can help with her stuff is being understanding and comforting if need be. It’s the same she does for his stuff. Really, he doesn’t know where they’d be if they had gotten here one on one. 

Max would maybe be fine. Stay in the kitchen, avoid contact with most people. Try to survive and maybe make friends with the Inner Circle. 

It is what it is. 

“That happen often?” Bull asks, probably having heard enough with his Qunari ears. 

Max shrugs, taking a bite of his stew. “Ask her. It’s not my business to tell.”

The lull of conversation returns though and Max grimaces as Lahlas flirts with Solas without remorse. 

Himbo is very fitting. 

“You must have toned muscle to manage all those twirls of your staff,” Lahlas practically purrs. 

“No more than you, twirling your daggers,” Solas says, ever serene. 

Wolf. Old white racist in Elvhen packaging. Max never understood his appeal and he’s not going to start now that he’s a threat in front of him. 

“Modesty! That’s cute,” Lahlas says with a big grin that spells doom. 

“This a thing that he just does?” Bull asks Varric. 

“Always,” Varric says with a sigh. “I think the Seeker almost tried to choke him out last week.”

Lahlas continues, because he’s simply incapable of shame. 

It’s usually hilarious. Well, right now it’s pretty funny too, Max would just prefer he spams flirt at any of the other companions. 

Besides Sera. Sera would probably kill him. 

“Cute?” Solas asks blandly. 

“Adorable,” Lahlas continues. “Your eyes glitter like freshly fallen snow, did you know that?”

Max thinks this is what watching a trainwreck in slow motion in front of you feels like. 

“Herald, I would prefer you not mock me to my face,” Solas says, the picture of a disapproving old hahren. 

Nevermind. Max is having a great time. 

“I would never mock another with their features,” Lahlas says with a wave of his hand. “A compliment is a compliment. Now, back to your presumably toned muscles.”

 _Nevermind_ Nevermind, Max thinks he’s going to go walk somewhere far away. 

Max stands and starts wandering off, bowl still in hand. 

“And that is two down for the count, you really know how to scare people off, Herald,” Varric says wryly behind Max. 

“Oh that’s _cruel_ , Master Tethras. Luckily I know many more things that I am very willing to share.”

“Kid, what did I say last time?”

“I wasn’t listening, too busy looking at the chest hair.”

Max snorts. 

—

“So.”

Lea sighs. Deeply. With feeling. 

“Hello, Benhassrath. How are you on this fine morning?” Lea asks dryly. 

“Good. You need alone time often, vint?” 

Lea is sort of embracing whatever backstory he’s making in his head for her, honestly. She’d be stupid not to. 

She still instinctively wants to correct him though. 

“Introverts with relapsing depression do, yes,” Lea says completely nonchalantly. “Oh! Or I’m doing super secret blood magic, communing with forbidden demons. Isn’t that what us apostates do, Solas?”

“Certainly,” Solas says seriously, probably hoping to endear himself to this group he’s stuck with until he gets his orb. 

Or doesn’t. He’s not getting that orb if Lea has to break it herself. 

“I would say not to encourage her Solas, but this is great entertainment,” Lahlas says cheerfully from up front, petting his horse as they trot along. 

Max is silently observing, as he does. Though from what Lea can tell he’s looking at the trees at the birds chirping. 

“Glad to be of service. Would you like a plate of grapes as well?” Lea asks. 

“Oh very much so, especially if you’re feeding them to me,” Lahlas says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I’ll gladly assist in your tragic choking then, ma’halla.”

“So, if you’re from Tevinter, that means Baker is too, right?” Varric asks. “How’s that work?”

“Like I told Iron Bull, the both of us are here from Hell to drag you all down for your sins.”

Max laughs his cackling witch laugh, and it takes every ounce of Lea’s self control not to join him. 

“I haven’t a clue where that is but I am assuming it is Heretical,” Vivienne says frankly. 

“Oh our father up in heaven, bless us and forgive our sins, _amen_ ,” Lea says, southern drawl coming out a bit. “Anything to add, Max?”

“Canon Jesus was cooler than fanon Jesus,” Max says, very seriously. 

Lea laughs. “ _Exactly._ ”

“Herald, are healers truly worth this much?” Vivienne asks Lahlas. 

“Well, with an exploding hand, probably,” Lahlas says, Herald mask in place. 

Poor babe. He doesn’t deserve this shit. 

“Back to subject,” Bull interrupts, every fucking _nosy._ “Depression?”

Aw, is Lea gonna have to explain modern medical terms to these people? She’s not qualified for this.

“Think drowning sadness and numbness that feels utterly inescapable,” Lea explains, tone bland. “Some people are prone to suicidal ideation. Usual symptoms are drowsiness, pulling away from others and hobbies they usually enjoyed, loneliness, other stuff I don’t feel like explaining.”

“Basic synopsis is I get real sad sometimes.”

Everyone is suddenly quiet. 

“Sounds a lot like Warrior Sickness,” Varric says. 

PTSD. She, luckily, _does not have that mess._

“Similar, not the same,” Max adds quietly from his seat, attentive. 

“Should I be dragging you around?” Lahlas asks, sounding falsely cheerful. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Only reason it’s getting handled this well is because I’ve gotten better before,” Lea says with a shrug. “Relapse is apart of healing. You satisfied, Benhassrath?”

“Yeah Vint.”

Lea promptly turns and starts up a debate about the alternative utilizations of summoned arrows with Max. 

Mental illness sucks. A lot. But not talking about it only made it longer when she was depressed that first time around. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin Translation:  
> “Nice dies est hodie.” - “Nice day today.”  
> “Et crassa infectum est-“ - “It’s gross and wet-“
> 
> For everytime I use Latin I make myself do a latin lesson in Duolingo lmao. My actual language I’m learning in highschool is ASL.


End file.
